


Deanpool

by perfectantidoteforthatabsinthe



Category: Deadpool (2016), Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Castiel, BAMF Dean, Balthazar has had enough of everyone's sass, Blood, Body Horror, Bottom Dean, Castiel has a potty mouth, Dean sings a lot, Don't blink or you'll miss it, F/M, Hippie Castiel, Hurt Dean, I'm Sorry, Light Bondage, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Minor Character Death, POV Dean, Pansexual Dean, Pining Dean, Punk Castiel, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Sam isn't in this story, Sassy Castiel, Sassy Dean, Tie gags, Top Castiel, brief mention of Jensen Ackles, but nothing descriptive, mentions of dog fighting, mentions of torture, very brief pov of castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7786573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectantidoteforthatabsinthe/pseuds/perfectantidoteforthatabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mercenary by the name of Dean Winchester has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. When a man in black offers him a cure that’s too good to be true. Well, Dean isn’t exactly known for having brightest ideas, so why start now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deanpool

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction, I'm pretty nervous. So I am just gonna go over everything here. I didn't write this story for profit, none of the characters or fandoms belong to me. This story is unbeta'd all mistakes are my own, I must also point out that the use of information for special forces and military was gathered loosely, but I did get some of the information from a family member who was a military spouse, if any information in this story sounds false or just unrealistic, treat it as such. This is fiction and should not be take seriously.
> 
> With that in mind, I hope my writing isn't too terrible, and I did these amazing characters justice by combining two of my favorite universes.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Update:
> 
> I went over the story again and edited and realized that editing previously at four o'clock in the morning with no sleep did not help my butchering of this. I re-edited Deanpool, although I know it still has a lot of work to go through before i feel satisfied with it.

The first time Dean Winchester made a stupid decision, it had not been a dare or even a way to show off. In Dean’s defense, he had been bored and ironically it had seemed like a good idea at the time. In Dean’s case, his stupid decisions usually began with, “this seems like a good idea!” and they usually ended with his little brother’s bitch face.

Some of his more memorable and less dangerous and stupid decisions had led to some of his best memories: 

When Dean got high back in high school and paying a visit to the closest Taco Bell at 2:00 in the morning to munch on twelve soft tacos seemed like a good idea, until he woke up some time later with the side of his face smooshed in his uneaten tacos, a kink in his neck and an angry Taco Bell employee yelling at him for disturbing the customer with his loud snoring. Afterward when Dean had to make the awkward call to his brother asking Sam to pick him up.

That time when he was sixteen and impressing Lisa Braedon had been one step away from him going out with her when her kitten needed saving from the apple tree in her backyard, who the hell has cats and who the hell Grows apple trees in their backyard, Dean thought to himself as he fell from down six feet, when the bottom of his boot slipped on moss growing on the tree limb. At least he got away with a broken pride, a couple of cuts and a smooch from Lisa for his effort.

Oddly enough, Dean’s stupid decisions came after he made one very good decision, or maybe the whole idea was stupid, Dean has lost track of how many stupid decisions he has made.

______

'Tonight is a good night' Dean thought to himself, whistling the tune to Burning for You. He had a belly full of free pineapple and olive pizza he stole from the delivery boy, chased off said delivery boy who had been creeping on a teenage girl who asked for help, and he did it out of the goodness of his heart and now he gets to warm his belly with some whiskey at The Roadhouse. 

Dean walked down the alley towards the bar, he was glad he wore his old leather jacket tonight on top of his favorite Dorothy Zbornak tank top, he thought as his breath fogged the air. His red snake print leather pants and red flame cowboy boots might have kept him from shivering, but his tank top would not have aided against the cold.

As Dean stepped into The Roadhouse, he was greeted with a wall of warm air, the smell of liquor and fresh, steaming hamburgers. Dean stopped to say hello to a few of his comrades.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." crooned Chuck, from behind the beat up bar, as he served up shots for a few of the mercs.

"Eat me, Chuck," Dean growled as he took his place at the bar.

"Always the life of the party.” Commented Chuck dryly, 

“So Deano, how'd it go with that kid? You let him off easy?" Chuck inquired.

"Nah, kid's not that bad, just needed to be set straight from a little light stalking. Oh, man. Give me a blowjob."

The glass Chuck was wiping down nearly slipped from his hands before Dean caught it. Both men stared at each other, Chucks blue eye twitched from behind thick-rimmed glasses, annoyed at the devilish gleam in Dean's eye.

"The drink, dude." exasperation heavy in Dean's voice, but his smirk gave him away.

"Yeah, I knew that." Chuck insisted, turning to whip up the drink."

"I give you: Kahlua, Bailey's and whip cream." Chuck topped the concoction with a spray of whipped cream.

Chuck's shoulders slumped, his face heavy with regret, "Dean, why did you make me make that?"

"Becky! Be a dear and take that over to Zach, tell him it’s from Uriel?" Dean asked with a friendly wink.

"Sure thing, Dean!" chirped the bubbly blond.

"Is this a wise idea, Dean?" Chuck winced when Zach threw a punch at Uriel, knocking him out of his chair.

"That was a new stool." Chuck defended weakly as a patron bashed another over the head with a stool

Dean twirled around in a happy dance, clearly proud of the chaos he had caused.

"Cheers, my good man." raising the shot Chuck had poured, Chuck solemnly replied with a, "fuck you, Dean" but still accepting the cheer.

Dean turned around as Zach gave Uriel one last punch, knocking him out cold. 

"Move, everyone, please move."

Pushing everyone out of the way, so Chuck could kneel next to the unconscious man, he held a mirror in front of Uriel's nose. Everyone waited with baited breath until Uriel's breath fogged up the tiny mirror.

"Alive. He's alive!" Chuck called and was met with various shouts of "boo's" as he made his way back to the safety of the bar.

"You lose, Dean," Chuck said as he continued serving and cleaning glasses. 

"Eh, better luck next time." 

Chuck rolled his eyes fondly at his friend. 

"Soldiers of Fortune," Dean addressed the bar, raising his shot glass, "Drinks on me!" he was met with cheers.

"Hold the phone, babe. You're not gonna spend all that dough in one bakery, are you?" rumbled a deep voice from behind Dean's shoulder, the man’s hand running along his shoulder in an action suggesting familiarity. 

Green eyes met blue, highlighted by black eyeliner as he turned to look at the man. He had dark, shaggy hair with streaks of blue throughout. A plain, black tank top showing off feathers on his shoulder blades and flowing down his muscular upper arms and peeking from beneath his shirt, the eye of Cthulhu stared back at him from his left pec.

Dean studied his face for a second, contemplating how to answer his question.

"Uh...depends..." Dean says as he raises his pinky finger, the man raised his to join Dean's.

"What's your name, sugar?" Dean asked, leaning closer to the dark haired man.

"Castiel," he said, eyes full of mirth. Dean's face broke into a slight smile and smoothing back to a serious face.

"What's a nice place like you doing in a guy like this?" Dean asked cheekily. 

Castiel's mouth tipped up in a cocky smirk, his eyes breaking from the game for a second.

"You know you can take the man out of the jungle, but you can’t take the jungle out of the man."

Dean finally broke out into a boyish grin, green eyes bright, smile lines crinkling.

"You must be asking for it if you’re looking to hang in my company."

"Oh. I'm asking for it. You got the dime, honey, I got the time."

Dean looked down at his cash, wondering where he could take Castiel out, besides the smoky air of the Roadhouse.

"I’ve got about fifty dollars and a gift card for Baskin Robbins?"

Dean asked showing off the colorful card.

"How about a trip to the bowling alley...and a low-fat desert from Baskin Robbins?" Castiel asked, slipping the card into Dean's mouth with a smirk. 

Dean watched Castiel walk away, card still in his mouth, he turned to Chuck with a 'fuck yeah!' look on his face. 

"Did he just stick a gift card in your mouth?"

Unfortunately, no amount of good decisions is not always enough to keep Dean from making worse ones.

 

______  
"Yeehaw! Ride 'em cowboy." Dean howled, nearly breathless as he bounced up and down on Castiel's cock.

"you gonna buck me off, Stallion, I gotta tame this wild horse - oh, shit...easy there, Stallion. Don't wanna throw me off the saddle again." Dean panted, steadying his hips into slow figure eights.

Castiel, held to his hips, grinding his hips up into Dean

"Do you ever shut....fuck...up" Castiel growled breathlessly, licking the sweat from his lips, blue eyes focused on where their bodies connected. 

Dean's ass bounced beneath assless chaps, as it gently smacked against Castiel's lower stomach.

"Cas...baby..." Dean breathed, his hands on Cas' knees, helping to support his up and down motion.

"and why...the hell...must...you wear...that stupid.... ah! Cowboy hat?" Cas' voice growled between thrusts until he came in Dean's ass, his hips jerking, head thrown back and his hands holding Dean's hips to his.

Dean's breath came out broken and sharp as he ground down on Castiel's slowly wilting cock as he stripped his cock with wet sounds.

"Yes. Fuck me, stallion. Fuck. So good. So good." Dean breathed, coming on Castiel's twitching, flaccid cock.

They both stayed in the same positions, Dean milking his cock until it was too sensitive to keep stroking. 

Castiel's hands laid out beside him, savoring Dean's warm body. 

"Damn, Dean. If watching Clint Eastwood gets you this hot, consider me a big fan of westerns." Castiel laughed breathlessly as he pulled off his condom and tossed it into the trashcan beside their bed.

"Clint Eastwood does not get me hot, Cas." Dean defended, pulling off of Castiel and turning to slap his stomach.

Dean crawled off the bed shakily, taking off his cowboy hat and hanging it in their closet and unlacing the chaps.

“Besides, I’m not the one who came to the thought of me wearing a cowboy hat.” Dean looks at Castiel pointedly.

Castiel snorted as he watched Dean untie and snap off his chaps, the nerd.

Dean grinned over at his boyfriend, propped up on his left elbow to watch Dean undress. 

Dean's fond grin slowly faded from his face, wheel's turning in his head. 

"Listen, Cas. I've been thinking, about how we're so good together." 

Dean pulled something from the dresser drawer, keeping it out of Cas' sight. 

He walked back towards their bed, naked and crawling to the middle of the bed, where Cas was still laying. 

Castiel moved to sit up, his knees touching with Dean's.

"Yes," he prompted.

"Well, your crazy matches my crazy. We're like two jigsaw pieces; weird curvy edges."

Dean looked up at Castiel to see if he was paying attention

"Put them together and you can see the whole picture." Castiel finished, a sappy look gracing his face.

"Right?" Dean asked like Castiel finally understood something he had been trying to get people to understand. And in a way, he did.

"Cas, will you marry me?" Dean asked holding up a strawberry-watermelon RingPop.

Castiel pulled back a little to look at the candy ring. 

"Is that strawberry-watermelon flavored?" Castiel asked pulling the ring from Dean's loose grip. 

"Uh...yes?" Dean said. 

Still waiting for Castiel's answer as the man in question took a big suck on the candy diamond.

Castiel looked up at Dean, licking the stickiness from his lips, he knee-walked over to Dean, wrapping his arms behind the taller man's neck. 

"I need you, Cowboy," Castiel whispered onto Dean's lips. Dean looked back and forth between Castiel's blue eyes trying to decide what his answer was.

"You-so-what?" Dean stammered confusedly.

"Of course, Dean. I do…I do…I do" Castiel repeated between kisses to Dean’s slack lips.

Dean's face lit up like a kid on Christmas day, his green eyes shining like a Christmas tree as he finally returned the kisses 

"Yes!” Dean squealed like a little girl, grabbing Castiel's bare ass and pulling him down to lay beside him, the bed springs bouncing with their weight.

Dean watched as Castiel slid the ring onto his ring finger, holding it out for Dean to lick the candy. 

"It's just you and me Cas, we're gonna sail off this cliff like Thelma and Louis," Dean said snuggled into Cas, smelling the drying sweat and the weed on his skin that never seemed to go away, even after he showered.

Castiel smiled up at Dean, all teeth, and gum, as blue eyes stared into green.

An idea popped into Castiel’s head, pushing off of Dean’s chest, he rolled over to his nightstand and picked up his Polaroid.

"For memories sake," Castiel said, laying down next to Dean, and pulling him into spoon against his chest. The camera flashed, and spitting out the photo. Dean handed the Polaroid to Castiel, instructing him to shake it. 

Dean got up for a bathroom break, as he did his business, he let out a happy sigh. Thinking about how good his life is going, with the rocky start his childhood had with his mom's death, his dad's binge drinking and leaving him and Sammy to fend for themselves, which often left Dean to sell himself to provide food, mainly for his little brother. 

Losing his brother to a gang shooting, leaving him to die just a block from their hotel. Thankfully, Bobby and Ellen had found him, a little too late as the damage was already done, but they took him out of John's custody, cleaned him up, gave him a roof over his head and three square meals a day, things had been looking up for Dean.

That was how at ripe age 18 he had signed up for the military, spent twelve weeks in basic training and passed his exams and spent most of his twenties in Iraq.

After he was dishonorably discharged from the military did he end up in Special forces. It wasn't until he was twenty-eight that he lost most of his hearing in his left hear from a bomb exploding that Dean had no choice but to leave, earning his purple heart and spent a year getting his life back together, that he got the itch and walked his ass into the mercenary lifestyle. 

Gun for Hire.  
Or fists.   
Or blades. 

Or whatever way was needed to take out a target. 

It was also how he met Castiel.

At 30 years old, Dean had been hired to take out an underground dog fighting ring by some people who had been tracking the ring down, but didn't have the know-how or the skills to sneak in and take it down. 

It had taken Dean, and a few others of his closest mercs and about two hours to kill everyone, dogs and kittens excluded.

After all the contenders and ring leaders were down, Dean called the Animal People via walkie-talkie to help get the animals to safety. 

It took almost the rest of the night to get the animals medical attention and calmed down until everyone cleared out, going their own way.

After Dean and the other mercs got their pay, a hand gently, as if to not startle him, caressed his shoulder, turning he looked down into dark blue eyes, barely illuminated by the street lamp. 

Recognition flashed across Dean's eyes as he remembered the guy from a few days ago, however briefly.

"I wanted to thank you. No one else would help us, and we were losing dogs left and right." the man's voice soft and deep, with tight with restrained anger and emotion.

Dean's eyes softened. His lips tipping up into a mournful smile, nodding his head, he said, "I know what it's like; to have that fire and anger. That need to protect and avenge." 

Dean hadn't thought twice about saying yes for what the head people had asked of him.

Here and now, Dean shook himself, flushing the toilet and walking back into the bedroom, he looked down at his lover, his fiancé. 

Taking a step towards the bed, Dean began to feel dizzy and a violent pain flashed through his head. 

"What the fuck?" Dean groaned, grabbing his head just as his legs gave out from under him. 

Castiel, hearing Dean fall, jumped out of bed, but not in time to reach Dean before he passed out.

______

Today, Dean is diagnosed with terminal cancer. 

"You're kidding, right? You're not kidding." Dean said humorlessly. 

"A lot of people have a lot of different reactions to finding out about their terminal cancer." Dr. Tran stated, not unkindly, to Dean and Castiel. 

"There are certain options people in your condition can consider when faced with terminal cancer. New drugs are being developed every day." 

Dean looked to Castiel, their eyes glued to the other. A series of expressions passed across Castiel's face, and finally settling on one, hard, firm look.

Turning back to Dr. Tran, he asked, "So, what do we do?" Castiel carried on, talking about how his uncle had dealt with cancer and the road he had taken to deal with his it.

Dean didn't hear any of it. 

His focus settled on Castiel's lips as they formed around words. The way his hand held onto his. 

That blue fire in his eyes. 

The way his hair, black and blue streaked shown in the sunlight from the window behind him. 

This is his life, not his cancer, not the mercenary work. 

Him. 

Castiel James Novak. 

A veterinarian by day and animal rights activist off-the-clock. 

His weed smoking, new age music, tattoos, and pink nail polish lover.

Castiel turned back to him, his eyes seemingly hard and soft, memorized his face, too. 

"Mr. Winchester, Mr. Winchester. Think it over. And don’t do anything rash" Dr. Tran said sympathetically

______

For months, Castiel dragged Dean to every known specialist from A-Z, people other doctors who owed Castiel favors anything to help Dean. And Dean tolerated it, he went with Castiel for his sake if only give Castiel hope. It wasn't until he and Castiel were at some twat waffles office that Dean finally cracked.

It had only been twenty minutes of listening to the good doctor spilling bullshit about how he could cure Dean, but it wasn't the asshat's douchery that made Dean lose his nerve, it was Castiel's slowly dying fire that made Dean pull his hands from Castiel sweaty grip, walk slowly to Dr. Fuckface and swing a sharp, clean punch onto his cheek. 

Dean finally came to when the doctor was out cold, but still breathing. At least he thought he was still breathing. From the right corner of the office, he heard Castiel breathing quietly but desperately. As if to not spook a dangerous animal. The eyes Castiel looked into slowly melted from rabid to fearful in a second.

It wasn't until Dean moved that Castiel jerked away, Dean pretended not to notice Castiel flinch and continued to walk out of the office. Quietly he opened the door and stepped out into the main area and out to the parking lot that he called for Ash to pick him up, leaving the Impala for Castiel to get back home.

______

"Geez Dean, you look worse for wear, what can I get you?" Chuck asked. 

"A double shot of Jack. No Rocks." Dean’s voice grumbled, harsh like he had run twenty miles.

"You sure you don't want any wheat grass? I hear it's good for the immune system." Chuck suggested humorlessly. 

"Jesus, you sound like Castiel. He has me going to all these whack jobs who think they can cure me. They're all dickbags who don't know shit. I knocked a guy out for spewing so much bullshit, it was coming out of his pores, in front of Cas! God, Chuck, he looked at me like he would a psychopath."

"In fairness, is there really a difference?" Chuck asked trying to lighten Dean's mood. 

Dean reached for his Jack Daniels, the photo of him and Cas falling from where it was sticking to his hand when he pulled it out of his pocket.

"Oh, look," Chuck said as he picked up the Polaroid. 

"It's a good photo. You look alive. I should hang this up to remind us of some good times.” Chuck said in a fake cheery voice. 

"Oh, that reminds me. I got this card from the guy back there, looking for you. Real grim reaper type. Might further the plot."

Dean picked up the black business card with nothing but a 555 number typed on it. He turned towards the back. A man in a dark suit sat in the back, facing the wall. 

The hair on the back of Dean’s neck stood up, ignoring the feeling he walked to the man, curious despite the warning.

Uriel sat nearby, handing Dean a shot of whiskey, he tipped his head and continued walking to man in black. 

Knocking back the shot, he set the shot glass upside down, drawing attention from the man. Sitting down, Dean studied guy. 

He had a calculating look on his clean shaven face, dressed to the nines in a black button down, black tie, and black suit jacket.

A pleasant and creepy smile spread across his face. 

"Ah. Mr. Winchester." He began in his rough Scottish accent. 

"How can I help you?" Dean inquired, "besides luring kids into a suspicious white van?"

Ignoring the jibe, the man continued, "I understand you've been recently diagnosed with terminal cancer." He said like he was an understanding kind of guy. 

Alert, Dean sat up, his eyebrows rising to his forehead, 

"Stalker much?" 

The man smiled, feigning friendliness, yet still not hiding how creepy he was. 

"It's my job. Recruitment. I'm sorry, you've had such a tough go." he said, still trying to be sympathetic. 

Bewilderment filled Dean's face as another guy yet again spewed bullshit from his mouth. 

The man continued, “But you're a fighter! Special Forces; 41 confirmed kills." The man praised in his business, douchebaggery voice. 

Dean huffed a laugh, "Yeah every seven weeks, it's a rate most people get a haircut." Dean leaned forward and drank from the man’s glass, not even bothered by how rude Dean was purposefully being.

He continued as if Dean hadn't said anything, 

"Now you stick up for the little people." his creepy grin in place. 

"Yeah, people change, what the hell do you want?" Dean cut in. 

"I work for an organization that might be able to help you," 

Dean barely managed to stop the urge roll his eyes, thinking back to all the bullshit appointments he had to sit through with Cas. 

The man leaned closer, his dark eyes, never leaving Dean's. 

"What if I told you, we can cure your cancer? And what's more give you abilities people would only dream of!" he whispered like he was letting Dean in on an impressive secret.

Dean sat there staring at him. Looking him up and down. 

"I'd say you sound like an infomercial. But not a good one." 

The man continued, "The world needs extraordinary individuals. We won't just make you better, we will make you better than better." He paused for a dramatic effect,   
"a superhero." 

"Look, Agent Smith.” Dean cut in, feeling exhaustion ooze through his body, “

“I tried the hero business and it left a mark, but if I ever hit 'fuck it' I'll look you up." Dean got up to leave, but remembered something, 

"Oh, we're in five hundred miles of a school, so you might wanna..." he made gestures with his hands not really meaning anything but still managing to get the point across and the man still had that maniacal, crazed, ‘I'm trying to convince people I'm a nice guy' smile on his face.

Dean walked back to the bar, informing Chuck that the drink was on Mr. Creeper. 

And yet, that little bit of information was stuck in the back of Dean's head, bouncing around. It unnerved Dean how creepy the man was, to come out of nowhere, know everything about Dean, from his time in service to his cancer, and something like that, Dean knew, was no joke.

______

"Man, my most prized possession." Dean held up his Led Zeppelin IV vinyl album. 

"Zeppelin, Really?" Castiel asked incredulously. 

"Yes. It's Led Zeppelin. Ramblin' On. Stairway to Heaven. Dazed and Confused..." Dean drifted off and smiled lecherously as he recalled that hot night as Zep’s Dazed and Confused played in the background, Dean groaning, with Plant’s moaning on the vinyl, behind Castiel's tie-gag, his hands tied to the headboard as Castiel ate him out.

Castiel turned away from Dean's grin, hiding the tears he was fighting. 

"So, what? Am I supposed to just let you go, wave you out the door?" 

Dean avoided Cas' eyes as he put down the Led Zeppelin album and moved to pack up more stuff, 

"Think of it like spring cleaning." Dean said in a put upon happy voice. "only if spring was death."

"Man if only I had a nickel for every time I spent on Betty White," Dean said as he picked up the change pouch with Betty White in pin up on the pouch.

"It seems like you already have," Castiel states as he grabs the pouch from Dean and shaking it pointedly. Dean made to grab for the pouch and Castiel moved it out of his reach. 

"Betty is not going anywhere because you're not going anywhere." his voice wavering, throat closing up with emotion. 

He turned and handed Dean one of his stupid hippie health drinks. 

"You're right, Cas. Because the cancer is only in my liver, lungs, and prostate. All things I can live without." 

Castiel looked away. His stubbled jaw clenching, and his eyes blinking rapidly.

"You belong here, at home, surrounded by your Dr. Sexy and your Betty, and your ‘me’," Castiel stated. His voice breaking off at the end.

"Listen, we both know that cancer is a shit show," Dean began. Castiel took a moment to look at Dean, with his sunken, tired green eyes, his pale and dry lips, that Castiel desperately wants to lick smooth and moist. 

His brittle hair that looked as dark and lifeless as the sky outside. He still managed to dress in his usual fashion. with his ripped up, white washed jeans, his Rent t-shirt from one of his favorite musicals and Castiel's favorite hoody. 

Dean continued, "Like the four horsemen, apocalyptic, demons and angels...shit show. And under no circumstances, will I be taking you to that show. I want you to remember me, not 'the ghost of Christmas me'-" 

Castiel cut Dean off, 

"Well, I wanna remember all of you, I wanna remember us!" Castiel said, his deep voice breaking into a higher pitch, tears now falling freely from his light blue eyes. 

"I swear to god, Cas. I will find you in the next life, and boom box 'I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing' outside your window."

Castiel stood there a moment leaning against the island counter, collecting himself. 

"No! No one is boom-boxing shit!" He pushed away from the kitchen island and plopped down next to Dean on the couch. 

Wrapping his arms around Dean's broad shoulders, setting his wet cheek to his hoodie on Dean's shoulder. They both took a minute to breathe each other in. Feeling the line of their bodies pressed against each other. 

"I swear, Dean we will get through this. We will fight this." Castiel said with as much strength as his voice could muster.

Dean said nothing as Castiel held him close. Breathing in Castiel's scent, his mint shampoo combined with his musk and weed.  
"You're right by the way," Castiel said. Dean waited for Castiel to continue.

"Your life is way more fucked up than mine," Castiel said, referencing the night Dean and Cas had when they first got to know each other and compared notes on Cas’ old beat up couch, munching on take out and smoking pot, competing on whose life was more fucked up.

Dean laughed humorlessly, turning to Castiel and looked into his watery blue eyes, he thought of how much Castiel fit to his jigsaw puzzle. He leaned close and whispered "I need you"

______

Later that night found Dean sitting by the window, so deep in thought, he barely registered the sirens and white noise of the city outside. Huddled into a ball, knees to his chest, chewing on the skin of his thumb, goosebumps peppered his skin, but barely a thought was given to any of it as tears flowed down his face, his nose stopped up and little sobs barely heard in the quiet of their apartment

He thought of Sam, wishing his brother were here. Thinking of what he would have grown up to be, had he not snuck out to go to the park just to get away from their father's drunken slurs and occasional yells. 

Had Dean gone and followed him, maybe kept him closer to where the hotel was, but not so close as to be near their father.

A bunch of 'what if's' crossed his mind, if only Sammy was here. Cas’ voice cut through Dean's pain filled thoughts of Sam's death.

He quickly, but not so quick as to bring attention to the mess he was in, pulled out of his ball and wiped away his tears discreetly. Trying not to sniff loudly, the mucous built up in his nose.

"Hey, Cas. Sorry. I had a Liam Neeson nightmare, dreamt I kidnapped his daughter. He just wasn't having it." Dean said to distract from what the real problem was.

He walked over to their bed, climbing under the sheets and spooning in front of Castiel. His warm arms instantly wrapped around Dean like a magnet, his left arm pillowed underneath Dean’s head, pulling him back to his chest so there wasn't any space left between their bodies. 

Castiel's chin tucked over Dean's bare shoulder his stubble scratching against his skin, his bare legs tucking between his, their leg hair catching, and his hands curling around Dean's, holding him tight.

Dean laid there, not falling asleep. He listened to Castiel's breath evening out, his snores slowly picking up. He laid there for a good 30 minutes before he slowly unattached Cas from around him, trying not to notice Castiel's finger closing around his bicep or his faint, "Dean" as he got up. 

Picking out a pair of boxers, jeans, a dark t-shirt and Castiel's hoodie he grabbed a bag and packed things he knew he would need. One last look at Castiel in their bed, sheet barely covering his naked body, his left hand outstretched where Dean had gotten up.

Dean reached out to touch his hand but thought better of it. Remembering how Castiel had seen him that day in the doctor’s office, how scared he was of him. Deep in the back of Dean's mind, he felt that he deserved that fear. That he didn't deserve such an amazing guy like Castiel.

Quietly he walked away. From Castiel, His bedroom, his living room, and kitchen. The home he made with Cas for a better part of six years. Dean choked on a sob. Tears burning hot trails down his cheeks, and though he would have liked nothing better than to kick the door down, he slowly opened and closed it.

Walking down the street, Dean held the cell phone to his ear as it rang, he stared down at the black card with only the 555 number written on it.

______

The place reeked of mold and sewage. 'Strange'. Dean thought to himself as he was carted down the tunnel, the concrete ceiling, and endless gray blur. 'this reminds of a body chute in the morgues'  
That creepy voice Dean knew all too well, even if he only met the man once slithers into his ears. 

"Mr. Winchester. Nothing warms my heart more than the change of someone else's. It's so good to know you've finally hit 'fuck it'" the man said, slimy, spiteful humor masked only by his, I'm-a nice-guy voice.

Dean looked away from him. Choosing to instead look at the cold, concrete ceiling. 

"Just promise you'll do right by me. So I can do right by someone else." 

"of course," he said in that understanding douchebag voice.

The man looked the men pushing him and gave them the 'go ahead'. The trip inside was not what Dean had expected. It was not a professional hospital at all. It looked vast and spacious with more wet concrete. Surrounding him were patients in various states of madness, their butts peeking through the opening of their hospital gowns. One man in a black combat suit was pushing a patient with a bar attached to a wire that reminded Dean of ones used to catch vicious dogs. 

Seeing more patients confused Dean even more, as a man, or he assumed a man sitting up on a hospital bed had horns in all directions sticking out of his back, as a guard stood by in those cheesy combat suits and a doctor injecting the man with something.

Looking around some more, Dean saw a man with half of his face bloody and the other half of his face scrunched up in pain, and watching him as he rolled by.

______

"This place seems sanitary," Dean commented as the guards rolled him to another gurney and lifting him up, shoulders and ankles onto the gurney.

"My first request is warmer hands." the men dropped Dean down onto the hard cushion, hurting most of his upper back. 

"Jesus." he winced in pain.

"And a warmer table." He looked around his surroundings until the men strapped his wrists and ankles onto the gurney. 

Dean didn't struggle, merely wondered what the fuck was going on.

"We need to come up with a safe words fellas. I choose 'pig in a poke'." Dean said as the men walked away, taking the bed they had brought in with them.

He watched them walk away until a firm hand pressed against his forehead and slammed his head back against the headrest and strapped his neck down with another restraint.

"Easy."

He hissed, looking up, surprised to see a woman with long dark hair strapping him in. 

"Aren't you a little strong for a lady? Never mind that, I once had this woman bench press me, and what a hell of a night it was if I don't say so myself." 

The woman ignored him, choosing to stare out across the building, Dean took note of the match she was chewing on. 

"What's up with the matchstick? Oral fixation?" he asked suggestively. "or just a big Stallone fan?"

Clearly tired of his rambling, she clamped her hand of steel over his mouth, he gave half a thought to sticking his tongue out and licking her hand, like the mature adult he was, before a smooth British accent cut that thought off.

"Patience, Ruby. All in good time."

The woman lets go of his mouth and Dean turned to his left, taking in a tall blond man dressed in a lab coat on top of a gray shirt, with a neckline that dipped down to mid chest. He had bleach blonde hair, and appeared to be about in his forties, a smirk permanently smeared across his face, crow’s feet wrinkling around his icy blue eyes. 

Dean raised an eyebrow at him and wondered if this was a joke, and expected Ashton Kutcher to pop out and scream Punk’d.

"Are you here for my massage? Do I get a happy ending?"  
Was the first thing to come out of Dean's mouth. 

The man turned to look at the woman, his eyebrow arching sarcastically. 

"We have another talker." he almost seemed impressed. 

"I'm just excited about my first day at superhero camp!" Dean exclaimed happily. 

"Shut the fuck up." Mighty Woman cut in, clearly not enjoying what he had to say, and then stuffed his mouth with a gag.

The British man stepped up to him, and lifted his eyelid, shining a red light into his pupil. 

"Mr. Winchester. My name is Ajax. I manage this workshop." He sighed longingly, “My welcome speeches used to be full of euphemisms. But in my time working here, I’ve grown blunt, in a place like this, there is no room for pleasantries.” 

His face took on false pity, his icy blue eyes sparkling with humor. Dean got the sense the man just liked to hear himself talk. He started to space out and think about clown porn but stopped himself before he could get too turned on. 

The man continued to talk in his husky voice, "This workshop is not Government run, it's a private institution that turns reclamation projects like yourself into extraordinary abilities. If you think superhuman powers are made painlessly…" He let his voice trail off, heavy with implication.

The blonde fiddled with a butterfly needle, he prepped the skin and stuck the needle in.

Dean as he grunted as a needle was pressed into the vein in his arm. 

"I'm injecting you with a serum that will activate any superhuman genes within your DNA, we will need to subject you to extreme stress," he moved to a machine beside Dean, flicked a switch and the machine whirled to life, instantly a blue liquid flowed through the tubes connected to the I.V. in his arm. 

Dean's face bloomed red under the strain of breathing through the gag and the fear coursing through his body as the liquid pumped closer towards the I.V.

"I was a patient here once, myself, you know. The treatment effects everyone differently.” 

Ajax pulled out a syringe filled with a yellow liquid with clots of red floating in it, from his lab coat and began injecting it along with the blue serum.

“It made Ruby inhumanly strong. In my case, it enhanced my reflexes, and scorched my nerve endings so I no longer feel pain, you could almost say I feel nothing at all."

Dean piped up, mumbling through the gag, clearly addressing Ajax. Blue eyes looked from Dean to Ruby, giving the go ahead with a nod and a wave of his hand. 

Ruby unfastened the gag, taking a deep breath, Dean thanked her twice before turning to Ajax and saying, "You have something in your teeth." 

A smirk spread across his unshaven face, although he wasn't amused by Dean's jibe. He looked at Ruby and proceeded to walk away in an annoyed huff.

"It's right in the middle there. A nugget of Romaine lettuce or something. It's been bothering me this whole time." 

Dean let out a bark of laughter, having seen Ajax peek into the surgery mirror nearby as he walked away. His laugh dying off, to say, "made you look." 

Ajax stopped walking away as Dean continued to talk. 

"Is Ajax your real name? Because that sounds suspiciously made up. What is it really? Kevin? Bruce? Scott? Mitch? Is it Tim the Enchanter?" Dean asked in a British accent. 

"You joke now, dear boy, but the last thing that survives this place is a sense of humor." he said haughtily. 

Dean's laughter died out..."We'll see about that." he said spitefully. 

"I suppose we will." returned Ajax. Looking towards Ruby, "He's all yours." and walked away for the final time.

"Oh, come on, Don't leave me with less angry Rosie O’Donnell." Dean sighed, he turned back to see her fist fly at his face before everything turned black.

______

The next few days, months, Dean doesn't even know at this point as he's filled with vials of adrenaline and dosage after dosage of any other cocktail they could pump him with, he endured various beatings while he was strung up from meat hooks, sprayed with fire hoses of ice cold, stinging water, his head had been dunked under oil more times than he was allowed to breath. 

His body submerged in coolers of ice water for hours until someone checked on him. Electrocuted, poked, and prodded. Any strain they could put upon his body, they did. 

By the end of each day, Dean was a drooling, catatonic thing, beaten and shocked to their will. 

______

One day or even night, no one was sure anymore. Dean and Marv had a break from all the torture they endured. Dean had learned that the man he had seen bloody and scarred, the day he had been brought in was the man he was talking to now.

They lay there in their own beds, bullshitting back and forth about this and that. And that led to their bucket lists and what they would do once they got out of there if they ever got out of there. It went unsaid, but it was left out enough to be obvious. 

"Making banana Pancakes, with my kids." the man said, tears running down his scarred face, his voice steady and strong.

Dean sat there, letting that thought flow over him, and then letting his mind carry to the last sight he had of Castiel. Laid out, naked and alone on their bed. The moonlight shining on his tan and inked skin as his body moved with each breath slowly, his hand stretched out, reaching for him.

A wave of emotion overcame him, unwillingly, he snapped his eyes shut. Willing the memory and emotions to go away. 

"Castiel," he whispered, not caring the pain and his love for Castiel swept him away anymore, as more memories of his time with Castiel flooded his head. "I wanna see Castiel." 

"I don't know about anyone else, but, I'm touched." All nostalgic thoughts of blue eyes and warm lips were ripped away from Dean's mind as that snarky British voice cut through. His lip curling in disgust.

Marv's voice, now weak and wracked with fear slipped out quietly, "we were just talking." 

"No, no. It's ok, I actually encourage this." He said reaching for Marv’s feet just as the man flinched away from his touch. 

"Wouldn't want you giving up on us, now would we?" he asked, 

Marv looked over as Ruby warily as she approached them. 

"Hey. Don't take any shit from him, Marv. How tough can he be? With a name like Balthazar?" Dean's voice carried on, spite heavy in his voice. 

Balthazar stopped the rant in his head to look at Ruby. A question evident on his face.

"Balthazar?" Marv asked, hesitantly. Ruby looked to Balthazar, not a hint of emotion on her face, although she started chewing her match much harder than usual. 

"That's his legal name." Dean snorted but continued on

"He got Ajax from a dish soap." Dean continued laughing, and then starting spelling "B-a-l-t-h-a-z-a-oops..." Looking to Balthazar as he walked to Dean's bedside, he looked in the direction of his hand, since his neck was strapped down. 

"I snagged the dry cleaning tag off of your lab coat." gesturing to the tag between his fingers. 

"uh, FYI, I can probably get you a superhero discount." 

"You are so tremendously annoying." Balthazar drawled out. 

"thanks." Dean snarked back, not even flinching as Balthazar sent him a seething look, no humor left in his blue eyes.   
"I've never heard that before," Dean said sarcastically 

"Why don't you do us all a favor and shut the fuck up. Or I'll sew your pretty mouth shut." Balthazar warned. 

The whole room got quiet as Dean turned as far as the restraint would let him, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. See, here's the problem with around the clock torture, you can't really step it up from there."

A nasty smirk spread across Balthazar's face. "Is that what you think?" the blond asked, voice thick with malice and intent.

They quickly moved Dean away to another room and put him in a coffin-like machine with a see-through lid, and began strapping him in. Not that it mattered, he had been strapped to the bed for so long and only fed by tube, he was so weak it seemed pointless to strap him down anymore.

"If this does not unlock your mutation, then nothing else will," Balthazar said between bites of his salad. 

"what we're gonna do is lower the oxygen concentration to the exact point where you feel like you're suffocating. If you're brain waves slow meaning you're about to pass out, then we'll turn up the O2." 

Dean barely listened to but a few words of what Balthazar said, only sorting through what was actually useful to him, taking note again on Ruby's match. 

"If your heart rate slows and able to catch your breath, then we'll turn it back down, and that's where we'll leave you." Balthazar cut off haughtily, munching on more of his salad. 

"Right there."

Dean laid there, eyebrows drawn down, anger in his eyes, "Man, I thought you guys were dicks before," 

"The funniest part is, you still think we're making you a superhero." 

Dean's eyebrows drew down, even more, turning his head to face Balthazar. 

"You a dishonorable discharge, hip deep in dead bodies. You're nothing." 

Dean's breath was caught in his throat, unshed tears burned his eyes. 

"The secret, Dean. We don't make superheroes; we make super slaves." 

A quiet gasp broke from Dean's chest unwillingly. 

"We're gonna set you up with controls and sell you off to the highest bidder, that's what we'll have you doing. Terrorizing citizens, putting down freedom fighters. Maybe just mow the occasional lawn." Balthazar smirked, pleased with himself for his speech and breaking Dean's spirit just a little bit more.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Dean asked disgust and contempt breaking his voice. 

Balthazar placed his food down, smirk still stuck on his face as he walked over to Dean.

"You're never going home after this." Balthazar snarked. 

“Look over there, Dean.” Balthazar pointed to a chart labeled 

‘Dead Pool’ 

Beneath it was lists of names with numbers next to them, Dean shook his head and focused past his blurry vision, he could see clearly the names were patience and the numbers next to them was amounts of money. 

His name was at the top, and he went for $10,469. 

And his highest bidder was Ajax.

“You son of a bitch” Dean spat at Balthazar as he turned back, to him, his age lines crinkling.

“I want you to keep looking at that, Dean. I’m rooting for you.”  
Balthazar started the machine up with a few presses of buttons and began to close the lid.

"Wait, wait." Dean took a deep breath, collecting his emotions and breathing through the tears. 

"You actually have something in your teeth now." Dean met Balthazar's eyes watching the smirk fall to be replaced by annoyance.

"Enjoy your weekend." Balthazar bid, as he pressed the button to seal the lid to Dean's 'coffin'. 

"Weekend. Wait a minute, can we backtrack? Weekend?" 

Dean looked towards Balthazar, no longer able to see him behind the machines, he paused, holding his breath as a hissing sound went off, he soon realized how much of a mistake that was when all the air seemingly pulled out of his lungs. He could feel is lungs suck in like a Space Saver bag, his eyes watering and his face swelling and veins bulging to the surface of his face and tendons straining against his neck from the pressure as he tried to take in desperate gasps of air.

How long Dean lay there gasping for breath, his limbs shaking, fingers and toes clenched, he had no idea. One thing led to another when rippling pain spread through his body, something wasn't right. Help! He wanted to scream, but no amount of gasping could pull in any air as he convulsed in the restraints. A sort of melting spread across his body, burning in flashes as his skin mutated.

The hair on his legs, feet, hands, arms, face and head all melted into his skin. Dean began choking, his heart rate picking up as he struggled to cope with the change slowly making its way up to his head. 

Dean gasped one last time, seeing his face melt and burn in the reflection of the see through lid. This is it, he really is Frankenstein's Monster, he thought, right before he let out a gasping, strangled yell at the monster looking back.

Hours later after his mutation, Balthazar walked back in, opening the lid and letting in air. Dean gasped taking in lungs full of air greedily.

"Fuckin' Hell." Came Balthazar's astonished and disgusted voice. "Looks like someone lost his shot at homecoming king." 

Dean turned to him, "What have you done to me?" he roared as much as he could with burning throat and lungs. 

"I raised your stress level high enough to trigger a mutation." he explained as if this was a normal medical procedure. 

"You sick, sadistic bastard!" Dean spat out, spit spraying from his lips. 

He met Balthazar's firm glare.

"I've cured you, Dean. Now your mutated cells can heal anything. It's attacking your cancer as fast as it can form." 

Dean stared at him, his breath puffing out.

"Now, I'm going to shut you in again, Dean," Dean's stare never leaving Balthazar's. 

He shook his head, "not because I need to," 

Dean's anger sizzled out at his words. Balthazar leaned in close. "because I want to." His grin grew back strong, like a weed he couldn't kill. 

Balthazar stood up straight again, his gaze never leaving Dean's. Dean slowly looked away. That last little bit of defiance, melting from his body. 

"Go ahead," Balthazar told Ruby. She leaned in to adjust his straps, 

"Fuck you smell like shit," she whispered to him, meeting his eyes, head on. 

Dean snapped his head forward, hitting her directly on the forehead, the collision causing her to jerk away, head flying back. 

She grabbed her nose, checking for any bleeding. 

"You fucker," she said, as Balthazar chuckled. and moved to impede her.

"Alright, alright. I think we owe him this one, don't we, Ruby? You take off, go on." 

She met Dean's defiant eyes as he stared back at her. She walked around Balthazar, exiting the room. 

"Off you go." He said, following her movements to make sure she didn't have a go at Dean again.

As Ruby walked away, she pulled out another match from the box she kept in her bra, to replace the one she dropped. 

"Quick question," Balthazar bent over Dean again, meeting Dean's tight-lipped, cold stare. 

"What's my name?" he asked, eyes never leaving Dean's.

But Dean remained silent breathing heavy and never backing down. Balthazar raised his eyebrows, prompting Dean to answer. 

Tsking, he backed off and said, "Didn't think so." He moved to push the seal button again and walked out of the room, Dean's eyes never leaving Balthazar's back as he walked away.

Dean lay there gasping for at least thirty minutes before he decided it was safe to spit out the match he had taken from Ruby, landing in his hand he struck it against a rough patch of the metal near his hand until it caught fire, staring at it for half a second, he threw the match next to the oxygen vent. He had only waited five seconds before the flame exploded, blasting his cage and half of the room up. 

Balthazar ran out of his room, looking around to see most of the building in flames, quickly, he grabbed the fire extinguisher and started putting out some flames.

He noticed too late after the smoke cleared that Dean's tank had been broken and there was nobody. His reflexes helped him dodge the bar aimed for his face as Dean ran through the smoke.

Both men struggled to gain the upper hand, grunts and roars could be heard above the blazing fire around them, smoke filling their lungs, but neither affected by it.

Balthazar recovered quickly, after Dean bashed him over the head with his iron pipe, standing up and facing against Dean, the two men stared at each other, the scraps of hospital gown hanging from Dean's mutated body, showing it off to the cruel eyes of his maker.

Dean flung the pipe at Balthazar, after catching it, Dean ran head on, picking Balthazar up onto his right shoulder and ramming him into a metal beam.

After two punches, the memory of Castiel's fearful eyes meeting Dean's as he pummeled the doctor caused him to stop mid-punch. It was enough hesitance, to take Dean back down 

"You don't want to kill me, I'm the only one who can fix your ugly mug." He whispered just loud enough to be heard over the fire and his pounding heart. 

Balthazar reared back, lifting Dean's body over his head and throwing him to the ground. 

Balthazar circled around Dean, like a wolf waiting for the kill. grabbing him from behind and throwing their combined weights to slam Dean's head into the ground behind them.

The fire hissed and crackled around Dean, blood oozed from his mouth in streaks with his saliva as he tried to fight the beatings and the need to keep going.

He tried to crawl away from Balthazar in his weakened state, only managing a few inches, before the same pipe he had defended himself with was plunged through his chest. A choking sound came out of his throat as he struggled to breathe and swallow down the blood.

Balthazar gave one last punch to Dean's face before he twisted the pipe into a hook to hinder Dean from pulling off. Dean's body limp, but held up by the pipe, his gaze lost in the pooling blood pooling beneath him. Balthazar moved into his sight, Dean couldn’t meet his glare, his body was so weak and pain pulsed from his chest. 

"What's my name?" he asked. When Dean said nothing, he got up and walked away.

"Dean" called a weak voice, from his right, he looked up, meeting the eyes of the only friend he had there. Marv's eyes slowly closed as the flames engulfed him. Dean watched as his friend slowly burnt, his flesh bubbling and popping in the flames.

______

Hours later, when the flames had finally done their worst, Dean had pushed the pipe through his back, but still laid there as the shredded hole in his chest healed up, stitching back together rapidly. Slowly, he pushed himself up, he stood there, debris and ash falling from his deformed body in clumps.

He took in his surroundings, finally taking the time to notice the differences in his body. He could hear out of his left ear. It was an odd feeling since he hadn't been able to hear out of that ear since the bomb explosion. He felt stronger, less...dead.

He stumbled away from the remains of the building, finding a store he could break into. He washed the smoke and ash from his body with the water from the sink and body soap he took from the shelf. He changed into the clothes he stole. He made a point to not look into the mirror.

His first thought after getting himself back together: Castiel.

He stood, inconspicuous, dressed in a dark hoodie, jeans, and boots. His deformed face watching from the shadows of his hood as Castiel walked down the rainy sidewalk. Never again did he think he would see that face. But it wasn't the way he ever wanted to see Cas. 

As he watched him walk along the sidewalk, he looked fragile, broken, his hand holding the umbrella as his other hand held close a jacket Dean knew well, it was his brown leather jacket that he'd had since he was sixteen and the jacket his dad had had since he was a young man. It looked huge and bulky, but good on Cas.

Emotion filled his throat, he wanted to call out to him, make him look in his direction. But he held off. Like a pathetic lost puppy, Dean followed Castiel. Staying five feet behind him at all times, all the while fighting the urge to run up to him. It was after a few minutes of following Cas, that he noticed people watching him, staring, gawking, old people at the food markets, a little girl being pulled closer to her mother, and young couple stopping in their flirtation to stare at him.

He hadn't stopped walking until he noticed Castiel walking into the apartments where they lived, he shrank into himself as the glass door closed behind Castiel, leaving Dean to stare into his own warped reflection. He turned quickly and walked away, no real direction where he was going, just to get away from Castiel.

It should be noted, that this is the worst decision Dean Winchester has ever made.

______ 

Even in his delirium, Dean still managed to find himself back at the Roadhouse. "Holy shit, Dean. Where the hell have you been?" Chuck’s voice disbelieving that Dean was really there. 

"I took off, that Reaper Creeper dude that was here, he said he had the cure for my cancer, said he could turn me into a superhero," Dean explained. 

"And what, Dean, you believed some Grade A asshole who claims to cure you, and you just throw caution to the wind and leave Castiel without a moment’s notice?" Chuck exclaimed. 

"Yes, Chuck. I had no choice. I thought if he can help me if I can live to see another day. I'm going to take it." Dean defended 

"Okay, so what happened while you were gone?" Taking a seat at one of the tables, Chuck looked to Dean's shadowed face beneath the hoodie. 

"It was like a fucking concentration camp, man. Any torture they could think of, and the patients there. We were experiments," Dean summarized everything that had been done to him from the first day there to when he broke out.

"How the hell did you survive that?" Chuck's voice, heavy with disbelief and horror. 

"I like to think it's because of my perky nipples." Dean joked, trying to break up the heavy subject. Chuck stern look wouldn't let Dean drop the subject. 

"They...changed me. All the shit they put me through, it was to mutate me." 

"Mutate? How? What for?" Chuck asked, not understanding what Dean was talking about. 

"They healed my cancer. They changed my body, as fast as the cancer can develop, the mutations breaks it down. Hell, I can even hear out of my left ear, now." 

"That's not the only thing they changed," Chuck pointed out. "or else you wouldn't be hiding your face from me. What happened?" Dean looked up, the hoodie's shadow still covering his face. 

"No, I am not showing you. What they did, it fucked me up. I look like a ball sack with teeth." Shaking his head, Dean looked back to his gloved hands. 

"Come on, Dean, it can't be that bad!" Chuck encouraged him. 

"Oh that's bullshit, I'm a monster. I belong in a Freak Show" Dean growled, pushing himself up from the chair, his hoodie hiding his grotesque face. 

"Wait a minute, Dean. Are you worried that Castiel will freak out if he sees you? Castiel loves you, he won't care what you - Jesus, Dean. What the fuck happened to your face?" Chuck gasped, as Dean slowly lowered the hoodie from his face.

Chuck stared at Dean, his head bald, eyebrows, eyelashes, and facial hair were gone, his skin resembling that of a burn victim, or, Chuck thought with a shudder, Freddy Krueger. 

"Wow, Dean" Chuck shuddered. 

"And the only way to fix this is fugly mug, is the shit stink who runs the mutation factory, who is gone - poof" Dean ranted, as Chuck leaned in closer to get a better look at his face. 

"Dude, please. A little sympathy here." Dean's exasperated look registering to Chuck. 

"Yeah, s-sorry" Chuck looked away timidly, trying not to hurt his friend’s feelings.

"What are you gonna do?" Chuck asked, his eyes not quite meeting Dean's. Dean stepped up to the table, turning the chair around, sitting with his arms propped up on the back. 

"I'm gonna work my way through his crew until someone give's up his whereabouts, put a bullet in his skull and tap dance on top of his carcass."

Chuck stared at Dean, trying to keep the image out of his head. 

"Well, the man thinks you're dead, you should keep it that way." 

"What, like, wear a mask?" 

"Yeah, all you need now is a suit and a nickname, 'Dean the Smartass' or 'Scaredevil'

Dean thought to himself, ideas pinging through his head.

"Dead pool" Dean said, the name sticking in his head. Chuck looked up, wondering where Dean was going with this.

“It’s – they had a betting chart there, to see who would die first.”

Chuck’s face turned green, taking another shot of whiskey to rid the taste of stomach acid.

"Captain Deadpool!" Dean's face lighting up with glee raising his hand for a high five.

Chuck's eyebrow's creased in confusion.

"No, just Deadpool" Chuck and Dean agreed together as Dean awkwardly lowered his hand.

"To you, Mister Pool” Chuck raised his beer glass in a toast to the moniker.

______

Over the course of two weeks, Dean worked on making his suit. He started out with a gray jogging pants and sweater, and handmade ski mask and goggles covering his face and black gloves covering his hands.

He then set to making a serial killer type layout of all the hideouts Balthazar's crew were located, connecting them with a string and tacks, leading back to Balthazar's photo, complete with his own doodle of a crown of dicks.

The evolution of his suit grew as he went through Balthazar's henchmen. 

His first stop was at a factory, knocking in a couple of guys’ heads and demanding to know where Balthazar was. A man ran up behind him, stabbing a plastic pipe into his back, not even phased, Dean stole the man's pipe out of his hands and stabbed him twice in the abdomen until a man shot a round of bullets into his back

Blood staining the gray material, the blood seeping into the front of his sweater as he turned to face the gunman.

“Where’s Balthazar?”

________

Taking a trip to the laundry mat, Dean stood there smearing a bleach pen into the sweater. 

"Seltzer water and lemon for blood. Or wear red. Dumbass." spoke a raspy voice from the black woman unloading her laundry.

Dean stopped rubbing in the bleach, thinking about what the woman said and finding it funny that she didn't question why he had so much blood on his clothes.

Taking the woman's advice, he bought red material, cutting eye holes sewing black around the eyes of the mask, and wearing a red sweater jacket with black shoulder holster to hold up his swords and various other weapons.

______

Walking in on a fighting ring, Dean pushed through the crowd, slamming a man up against a wooden beam and thrusting a knife into his palm "I won't ask twice, where is Balthazar?"

Dean returned back to his office, stabbing the photo of the man he had just questioned. 

"He made me ask twice," Dean complained. Looking into the hand mirror he used to check himself out when he modeled his mask. "Does the mask not fit my voice?" he asked his reflection as he pulled the mask off.

Dean upgraded his suit with a thick, rubber material and bullet proof body armor on his chest and shoulders. His gloves thick and padding on the knuckles for protection and a meaner punch. He added holsters on his ankles, thighs, wrists, back and a belt to hold various weapons, keys, cuffs and anything he deemed useful.

Now that his suit had been upgraded and less prone to wear and tear, Dean was sufficient in kicking ass and taking names, using his military and special forces training to storm through everyone connected to Balthazar. 

At this point, "Where's Balthazar?" was being said in his sleep.

One memorable moment, Dean broke a man's hands and busted his knee cap, watching the man crawl across the skating ring, he climbed into the machine, and driving behind the injured man, slowly. His hysterical laughter ringing through the dome, 

"You about to be run over, by a Zamboni!"

Killing men in bathrooms while they took a dump, slamming heads into metal cabinet drawers, and asking women if it was sexist to shoot or not shoot them. 

Yeah, Dean's a classy guy.

Back in his office, he drove a screwdriver through his doodle of 'Zamboni Guy' looking around his layout, his green eyes landed on Agent Smith.  
______

Crowley sat in the chair next to the dirty, meth head, handing him his black business card. Kind words flowing from his mouth in mock sympathy.

Getting up, he paced away from the stench of unwashed bodies, pulling out his tiny notebook, he crossed off another name that he was sent to recruit.

Backed by his bodyguards, they walked through the packaged meth and factory workers going about their business.

"Nice to see you, Jared. I'll take a foot long. Fully loaded."

Crowley turned around at the unfamiliar voice, seeing no one, he looked up the towering packages of meth to see a man in a red suit, relaxed, one leg crossed over the other.

Knowing that nothing good could come from this guy, he tucked tail and ran his bodyguards shooting at the suit and missing completely as the man flipped off the tower of meth and sliced through their bodies with his katanas.

Crowley ran out of the factory, pushing a pedestrian out of his path until a solid force slammed into him, his flying into the car parked by the sidewalk. He slumped limply to the side, his limp body hefted up and slammed back into the dented car door. Lifting up is hands in a non-threatening manner.

"forty-one confirmed kills. Now it's eighty-nine. About to be ninety."

Realization dawned on the Scottish prick, 

"Mr. Winchester?"

"Ding, ding, ding."

"You're looking very alive," Crowley said conversationally.

"Ha! Only on the outside."

Crowley took a moment to look into the white eyes of the mask.

"This is not going to end well for me-"

"Not going to end well for you. No" Deadpool chimed in.

"I can tell you exactly where he is-" Crowley said, hoping to get the crazed man on his side.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah. Oh, you'll tell me. But first, this little piggy went to-" Deadpool's voice cut off as Crowley's broken cries rang through the streets, pedestrians scattered away from the horror, dropping their groceries without a backward glance.

In his office again, Dean stabbed a pocket knife into Agent Smith's photo. 

"Thank you, Agent Smith." He looked from Agent Smith's photo back to Balthazar's photo, complete with his crown of dicks.

______

"Taxi!" Deadpool called as the yellow car pulled up.

"Hop in! I'll take you where you need to go." Deadpool opened the back door and directed the young man where to take him. On the way there, Dean had some time to think. Planning out how he was going to take Balthazar down, make him put him back the way he had been before the mutations.

Castiel. Dean smiled behind Deadpool's facade. He was going to change his bad decision back into a good decision. He had to, for Cas.

After thoughts of Cas and their Kama Sutra type make up sex, Dean's mind wandered. He played with the window button, moving it up and down, waving his arm in the motion of the wind, pulling out a pamphlet of a horror tour, he tucked it away in the pouch on his belt for later. Noticing a wad of gum on the ceiling of the cab, he pulled it down and watched how the old rubber-like candy stretched and snapped away from the ceiling.

'Shit' he thought to himself, as he shook his hand violently, trying to fling the gum off of his glove and watch it slap against the car window. Whistling to himself, he acted non-discrete until he popped his head between the two front seats.

"Kind of lonesome back here." Deadpool wedged his body between the seats until his hips got stuck with the utility belt caught between the seats.

"Tight squeeze." he chuckled to himself.  
His suit covered butt bumped into the man driving, at one point farting from his effort to squeeze into the front seat.

"Excuse me, sorry" Finally settled into the passenger seat, he turned to the awkward guy, holding out his hand to shake.

"Pool. Dead."

"Uh, Garth."  
The man tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel but managed to smile good-naturedly.

"Mm. Nice." Deadpool said, pointing to the photo the man had taped to the dashboard.

"I know, man. Smells good, huh?"

"No, chuckles, not Daffodil Daydream. The girl."

"Ah, yes, Bess. We were high school sweethearts. She would have made me a beautiful wife. But then my cousin Wayne took her heart away from me. That conniving no do-gooder."

"Garth, I'm starting to think there is a reason I'm in this cab today."

"Yeah, man you called for a cab, remember?"

"No, chuckles. Love is a beautiful thing. When you find it, the whole world tastes like Daffodil Daydream. So you gotta hold onto love, tight,"

Deadpool made a point by raising his pinky, urging Garth to do the same, and squeezing their pinkies together. Garth cringed in pain, 

"and never let go. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Got it?"

"Yeah." Garth agreed if only to get his finger from between the thick material of the man's glove.

"Because the whole world will taste like Mama June after hot yoga."

"What, uh - what does Mama June even taste like," Garth asked, not understanding what the masked man said.

"Like two Hobos fucking in a nasty gym sock, the point is, it's bad," Deadpool explained, getting his point across when Garth raised his hand in disgust at the image Deadpool painted.

"It's bad." Garth agreed.

Garth turned to Deadpool, deciding to change the subject.

"So, what’s with the fancy red suit, Mr. Pool?" he asked in his dorky, southern accent.

"Oh, that's because it's Christmas day, Garth. And I'm after somebody on my naughty list." Dean said in his bedroom voice, 

Garth looking back and forth from the road to stare at Deadpool.

"I've been waiting one year, three weeks, six days, and oh..." Deadpool cut off to look at his Harry Potter watch, "Fourteen minutes to make him fix what he did to me."

______

It wasn't until Garth had driven them to their destination and that Dean realized he had forgotten his ammo.

"Do you want me to turn around?" Garth asked.

"No. No time. Fuck it, I got this. 9, 10, 11, 12 bullets. We're here!" Dean called, Garth slamming on the breaks, the cab squealing to a halt.

"That'll be $27.50" Deadpool stared at him, mask showing no emotion.

"Oh, I don't keep a wallet on me while I'm working, it ruins the lines of my suit." Garth's face fell with disappointment.

"Oh,"

"Uh, but how about a crisp high five?" Deadpool asked, raising his gloved hand. Garth tapping it blandly.

"Merry Christmas!" Deadpool cheered as he exited the cab, jogging across the highway to sit on the railing, doodling a childish drawing of him as Deadpool shooting Balthazar with a speech bubble saying, ‘Ouchie’ as AC/DC's 'Shoot to Thrill" played on his Walkman.

Dean sat there, cars rushing by, AC/DC playing on his Walkman, legs swinging back and forth as he waited for Balthazar, it wasn't until Dean got really into 'Big Balls' by AC/DC that Dean noticed a group of cars surrounded by motorcycles driving down the highway, that Dean got down to business.

Standing up and swinging a leg out, he let gravity take him down till he crashed through the sunroof of the main vehicle. Landing in between two men, elbowing, and punching, nut crunching and jabbing, the man in the passenger seat swung a gun to point at him, Deadpool kicked the man in the face and called out a "Cockshot!" before he gave the guy another nut crunch.

"I'm looking for Balthazar!" Deadpool grunted. Pushing himself, between the two front seats. Raising his childish drawing, he asked passenger seat guy if he had seen him, passenger guy smashed his head into the dashboard, stations changed with each smack into the radio.

"Ow. Ow. Ow." The man punched Deadpool, bringing his gun from his thigh holster, Deadpool finally took control, moving out of the way when the man shot the bullet, hitting the driver in the thigh, his cries of pain filling the vehicle.

A rain of bullets shot through the side of the car, killing passenger guy instantly, pulling back, Deadpool kicked passenger guy out of the car, the car door hitting motorcycle guy, Deadpool hit the driver in the bullet wound, taking control of the steering wheel and flooring the pedal.

A vehicle of men pulled up beside them, guns raised and aimed at him, Dean twisted his left leg with all the flexibility he got from yoga, Cas would have been proud of him, and swerved the vehicle to spin and flip, tossing Deadpool and the other occupants to be thrown from the car, as it flew over motorcycle guy #2, Deadpool grabbed his pants, pulling him off of the bike in a what had to be the worst wedgie ever.

______

At the school for 'Gifted Youngster's,' Benny was currently eating his breakfast, and not paying attention to the news playing in the background. "It appears the assailant is armed, dangerous-" 

“And wearing a red suit. " Drawled Benny's Cajun accent. His shiny metal face shifting in anger. 

"Couillon!" Benny swore, slamming his steely fist onto the counter, the milk and cereal from the bowl splashing all over.

"Negasonic! Come on, girl. We have a mess to clean."

The opening to the plane shifted as Benny's metallic body approached. 

"Colossus, wait up!" called Claire as she ran towards the giant. "I have given Dean every chance to join us, but he would rather act like a child. A heavily armed child. When will he grow up and see the benefits of becoming an X-Men?"

"Which benefits? The matching leotards or the house that blows up every few years?"

"Please, kid, the house blowing up helps build our reputation. You ate breakfast, right, kid? Here's a protein bar, it'll help make your bones strong because Deadpool might break yours." Benny said with a wry chuckle.

______

People scattered the scene of the crash as the rest of the henchmen got out of the vehicle, armed and ready. The men stood there, guns half cocked at the wrecked vehicle, staring at the underbelly, none of them moving, each looking the other, not sure what to do.

A head popped out of the window, "Hey!" it said, like a gopher until one of the men shot at the head, and it shot back down. 

The men started closing in each taking position below the car, two pairs of hands popped up, 

"Wait!" it hollered, the men cocking their guns, aimed at the man. 

"You may be wondering, ‘Why the red suit?’ Well that's so bad guys can't see me bleed!" the voice chuckled enjoying his own joke.

"This guy’s got the right idea, he's wearing brown."

The man looked down at his pants, offended, he brought up his gun and started shooting at the suit.

"Fine,” the voice huffed. “I only have twelve bullets, so you're gonna have to share."

Deadpool cocked his guns, "Let's count them down," he shot the twelfth and eleventh bullet, taking out two targets.  
A third motorcycle guy drove around the car, shooting Deadpool up, a bullet driving through his arm.

"Shit!" Dean swore as he stuck his finger through the bullet hole, and holding his arm up, looking through the wound to see motorcycle guy #3 drive back to him as the hole quickly healed.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled, aiming his gun at motorcycle #3

"10. shit" he swore as he missed the guy.

"9." He called again, standing up to get a better aim.

"8. Shit fuck" missing the guy as he rounded the car, hopping over the vehicle and landing on his feet, he stood straight to take aim, squinting his eyes as motorcycle #3 disappeared behind the cars.

"Bad Deadpool," Dean said, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Noticing a guy to his right, he shot him in the head.

"7, Good Deadpool."

Deadpool crouched down as bullets fired at him, running, he jumped over the hood of a car and jump-twirling over another until he could sit beside the cover of another car.

He jumped up, when the bullets stopped, he saw one of the shooters aim his gun at him. Deadpool gave a high pitched yelp and ducked back down when the bullets broke through the window, glass raining down on his head.

The man jumped up onto the hood of the car, seeing Deadpool laying on his side, head propped up with his arm, he took aim but was out of bullets.

"Someone's not counting." Deadpool rebuked as he shot the man in the head. "6."

Deadpool peeked from behind a vehicle, seeing two men across from him, they stood up, on pulling the trigger from a grenade. Deadpool stepped out from behind the car, gun aiming for the grenade and shooting before the man could even throw the bomb, exploding both of his opponents.

"Gusta cinco!" Deadpool sang as he moonwalked, yelping when bullets flew around him, one bullet hitting him in the ass. 

He lay there in a heap as the man approached, "four" came Deadpool's weak voice as he aimed for the man's head and shot him dead. "Gotcha!"

Deadpool stood up, moaning and groaning, "Oh! Man! Right up main street!" Deadpool groaned in pain, limping and clutching at his ass, waddling over to the man he just shot, "3, 2. Stupid! Worth it."

Deadpool's attention was caught by three more men shooting at him, ducking behind another vehicle, Deadpool waited until the men ran to the back of the car, jumping over the hood, he shot the men in midair, in a straight line the bullet shot through them shooting them all down.

Dean stood up, putting the muzzle of the guns to his masked nose and breathing in the steam, groaning in pleasure, "Oh, I'm touching myself tonight." as the steam from the gun breathed back out of his mask.

Skipping over the last vehicle, hip checking the driver's door with his hip all the while calling, "Balthy, Balthy!" Opening the door to look in the back, he looked around to find no one there, slamming the door closed in anger.

"What the shit biscuit?!" he swore "Where're you at Balthazar?!" he hollered.

"If I were a two-hundred-pound sack of asshole named Balthazar, where would I hide?" Deadpool asked himself, the sound of a motorcycle engine cut through his train of thought. Turning slowly, he glared at the motorcycle #3 guy, 

"Oh"

Deadpool took off after motorcycle #3, jumping up onto a car, pulling out his katana and throwing it into the tire of the motorcycle, landing on his back, and somersaulting off the car, he walked towards Balthazar as the bike crashed into the car he had first wrecked.

Walking over to Balthazar, he narrates, "A hush falls over the crowd as rookie sensation, Dean M. Winchester out of Lawrence, Kansas, lines up the shot," he trails off in a whisper, holding his hands up in a camera frame.

"His form looks good!" he says, before swiftly kicking Balthazar's helmet head into the car. 

Balthazar pulls the gun from under him, aiming it at Deadpool, he grabs the gun and kicks Balthazar back into the car.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, what you're witnessing is sweet" jumping into the air, and slamming Balthazar back into the ground, "sweet dicking revenge." Pulling Balthazar by the collar of his jacket, he throws him like a bowling ball into the side of the concrete bridge.

"Incoming!" Deadpool calls, as he knees Balthazar's head into the rail, his helmet popping off, revealing his smug, ugly mug.

"This is taking a sportsmanlike conduct to a whole new level!" Deadpool says as he thrusts the katana through Balthazar's shoulder and through the concrete railing.

Deadpool pushes his forehead up with his fingers, 

"Looking good, Balthy, well rested. Like you've been pitching not catching. Ringing any bells? No? How about now?"   
Dean asks as he pulls his mask up, revealing the lower half of his face. Recognition lights up Balthazar's face. He lets out a small laugh. 

"Dean fucking Winchester." he says, a smile pulling down on his mouth, impressed. 

"Well, hello, gorgeous." Balthazar greets in a jaunty voice

"Yeah, like I got bit by a radioactive shar-pei! Yeah, and whose fault is that, huh? Balthy?"

Balthazar huffs a laugh.

"Now, it's time to undo what you did to this butter face."

Balthazar laughs some more, shaking his head.

"You should thank me, I made you immortal. I'm actually quite jealous."

"Yeah," Dean agrees, "but this ain't a life worth living, is it?" he asks, pointedly moving the katana stuck in Balthazar's shoulder.

"Now, let's get down to business, shall we?" Dean asks, drawing back his fist until a hand closes around his wrist, "oops" he says, right before he was flung back into a car.

Benny turns to Balthazar, murmuring something about staying put before he walks over to Dean. 

"You have been warned plenty of times, brother, this is a shameful and reckless use of your powers. You will both be coming with us."

"Look, Colossus, I don't have time for the goody two shoes bullshit, right now." Dean rants as he gets back up.

"And, you are?" Deadpool asks, his gaze swinging the blond girl, her hair braided into cornrows on one side, decked out in ripped up blue jeans, combat boots, a Megadeth t-shirt with a pink, white, and blue plaid shirt on top, standing next to Colossus. She glares at him for a second, chewing on her gum.

"Negasonic Teenage Warhead."

"Negasonic Teenage - what the shit? That's the coolest name ever!"

She stops chewing on her gum long enough to raise a slim, tawny eyebrow, her blue eyes full of teenage rebellion and shrugs her shoulders.

"So, what, uh, like a sidekick?" Dean asks, looking to Colossus.

"Nah. More like a trainee." Benny dismisses as Deadpool moves between them.

Deadpool walks back over to Balthazar, staring down his nose at him, thinking about what place would be best to start carving

"We can't allow, this, Deadpool. Please, come quietly."

"No. You, big chrome, cockblock!" Deadpool accuses, throwing debris at Colossus' chest

"Are you really gonna fuck this up for me? Trust me," Deadpool turn to point at Balthazar.

"That wheezing bag of dicks has it coming."  
Balthazar, ignoring the jibe, down at the katana in his shoulder.

"He's pure evil!" Deadpool accuses.

"Dean, man. You're better than this. Please, Join us."

Benny coerces as Deadpool picks up a tire rim, and tosses it at Balthazar, hitting him in the head.

"Please, act like a superhero." That sets Dean off.

"Listen, the day I decide to become a crime fighting, mutant ninja turtle, I'll send your shiny, happy ass a friend request. Until then, I'm gonna do what I came here to do. Either that or slap the bitch out of you." 

"Dean," Benny cuts in.

Claire sees Balthazar running away, bringing attention to it, 

"Zip it, Miley Cyrus!" Deadpool calls. 

"Hey, douchepool!" Claire points behind them, Deadpool turning to look where Balthazar was, the sound of a motorcycle buzzing in the distance.

Dean gasps, raising his hands to his face. Benny raises his hands in a non-threatening manner, 

"It's ok, brother. We will get him back." Deadpool looks back and forth between Benny and the spot Balthazar had been a few times before squinting his eyes, 

"That does it!" he yells and swinging at Benny with his left fist, smashing on impact. Dean falls to his knees, holding his broken hand, groaning in pain.

"Oh, balls!" He yells in pain.

"Dean, please!" Benny begs.

"Cockshot!" Dean calls, turning and slamming his right fist right into Benny's junk. 

Yet again, smashing on impact.

Deadpool stares at Benny's bulge in horror.

"Oh, your poor wife!" he says in a high-pitched voice.

"You really need to stop, Dean," Benny warns.

Groaning in pain, he falls in a broken heap on the floor, screaming in a high pitch girl voice. Off the side, Claire stares at him, chuckling at his agony and screams of pain. 

"This only gets worse for you, big fella!" Dean yells. Standing up and holding his broken wrists to his chest.

"Do you have an off switch?" Benny asks

"Oh, yeah, it's right next to the prostate, or is that the on switch."

"Enough!" Benny declares, swinging his arm and flinging Dean onto a car, crashing the rear window on impact.

Claire turns to watch Deadpool groan in pain. He rolls off of the car, falling in a heap onto the road, he lays there panting as Benny stomps up to him, 

"Alright, let's get you outta here" clasping his broken wrist in a handcuff, dragging his body towards the jet.

"I’m wanted. Dead or alive!" Dean croaks out the lyrics.

As he's being dragged along, Dean snaps his wrist back into place, lifting his left leg and pulling out a knife from the holster on his ankle, cutting into the cuffed wrist. 

Claire looks down at the sawing noise, her face crinkling up in disgust. Benny lifts Dean up by his wrist, Dean still sawing away at the bone, blood spraying onto Benny's chrome face.

Once Dean's knife had got through the bone and tendons, he pushes against Benny's abdomen with his leg, ripping the rest of the tissue apart from his arm, flipping backward he lands into a trash truck. 

When Benny raises the cuff with Deadpool's hand still attached, the severed hand is giving him the finger. Despite himself, Benny guffaws, Claire raising an eyebrow at the show of humor.

______

With Dean's good looks and charm, he managed to get the Trash Guys to drop him off at his home, waving them goodbye with the stump of his wrist. ‘Ah! Home sweet home’ His home is currently living with the woman he met at the laundry mat, Missouri Mosely. A blind woman who, to Dean is like the Robin to his Batman, if Robin were old and Black, he even suspects the old crone of being in love with him, which, in Robin and Batman's case, there still isn't much difference.

Fumbling at the door, pulling his mask off and trying to get the door open, Dean hears something falling from inside the house. 

"Missouri?" he calls? Breaking the door open to see her bent over from tripping on her vacuum robot, helping her up with one arm is not easy, don't let people tell you otherwise! 

"It smells like old lady and pants in here," Dean observes as he puts on his crocks.

"Yes. I am old and yes, I wear pants." Missouri says in a bored voice like this is a conversation they have all the time.

"Oh!" Dean groans, "So comfy!" Dean says his socked feet sinking into the bright pink crocs.

"Upside to being blind. I have never seen you in crocs."

"You mean my big, rubber masturbatin’ shoes?" Dean corrects, looking at Missouri fondly as she walks back to her recliner.

"Downside to being blind. I hear everything in this duplex." Dean's face falls at that but brushes the comment aside by throwing himself onto the floor like a child.

As he lays there, Missouri works on her dresser and they bullshit back and forth, he gives his opinion on Ikea and what shitty furniture they have and she asks for a screw which makes him laugh and says, "No, thank you." Missouri rolls her sightless eyes behind her glasses at his immaturity.

Once she had finished with her dresser, she sits down with a "Ta-da!" just as the dresser falls apart. They both sit and lay there in silence after the crash. It takes a couple of seconds before Missouri says, "I wish I never heard of Craigslist."

"And I quote, 'looking for a blind roommate, must be good with hands. Or would you rather I built the Ikea and you pay rent?"  
"Why are you such a douche this morning?" Missouri asks, annoyance in her voice.

Dean sits up abruptly looking into her glasses.

"Let's recap; the asshat that turned me into this freak, slips through my hands," he looks pointedly at his stump, "hand." 

He gets up, looking for his lube and unicorn, stops to face Missouri. 

"Catching him was my only chance to be hot again and get my super sexy man back, and keep this shit from happening to someone else. So, yeah. Today was about as much fun as a sandpaper dildo." 

He stomps away from the living room to his bedroom, intent on masturbating to his unicorn stuffed animal.

______

Balthazar makes it back to the new 'hospital'. Stumbling in, Ruby turns to see Ajax beaten and bloody.

"Found out who our friend in the red suit is." he says in way of greeting.

"Fucking Dean Winchester," he says as Ruby stitches up his back.   
"I suppose if I had a face like that I'd wear a suit, too," he mumbles mostly to himself. 

"I also wish I healed the same. Still. We'll put him out of our misery." He says, lifting the torn and bloody shirt over his head. 

"Right," says Ruby. "and when he heals?"

"He can't heal. Not if there's nothing left for him to heal. You know, it's funny." he says as he puts a clean shirt on. 

"I almost miss the bastard. I like a challenge. But it's better for business." pulling the match from Ruby's lips

______

Back at Missouri's place, Dean is kicked back wearing his favorite sweats and a baggy hoodie. 

"Tylenol PM?" Missouri asks.

"Nah, I've already taken the good stuff. I'm good. But I appreciate the gesture." Dean says, raising his tiny hand to rub against Missouri's chin.

"Am I crazy, or is your hand really small?"

"Like a KFC spork," Dean confirms.

Missouri scoffs in disgust.

"I get why you're so pissy. But your moods never gonna brighten till you find this boy of yours and tell him how you feel, baby doll."

"What do I keep telling you, Mrs. McGoo? He wouldn't have me. If you could see me, you'd understand."

“Looks aren't everything, honey." she comforts.

"Looks are everything!" Dean whines.

"Have you heard David Beckham speak? It's like he mouth deep throated a can of helium. Do you think Jensen Ackles got this far with just his superior acting method?" Dean complained.

"Love is blind, Dean." Missouri defended.

"No, you're blind," Dean said, his green eyes gazing up at Missouri,

"So, you're just gonna lie there and whimper?"

"No. I'm just gonna wait till this hand blasts through puberty, and then I'm gonna have a whole new Christmas day planned. In the meantime, you might wanna leave the room." Dean suggested, propping his croc feet onto the coffee table. 

"I bet it feels huge in this hand." he says, getting the desired effect when Missouri leaves to go to her room.

______

"So the doctor says, 'the bad news is, you don't have long to live.' The patient says, 'how long do I have?' the doctor says, 'five' The patient says, 'five what?' The doctor says, 'four, three, two, one.'"

The drunk patrons start laughing at Chuck's joke, Chuck laughing along. Taking a swig from the cola, he notices a blonde man and a dark-haired woman walk into the bar, staring at them, the man's smile never leaving his face.

"Can I help you, ladies?" Chuck addresses them both.

"Well, I do hope so." The man says in a thick British accent, his blue eyes ice cold and sparkling with malevolence.

As the man walks towards the bar, the woman walks behind it, looking at the photos on the walls, until she looks Chuck in the eyes, dark pools that seem to go on forever.

"I heard you would be able to point me in the direction in a friend of mine." he nods his head, looking to Chuck pointedly.

"Name of Dean Winchester?" he says, eyebrows raising, forehead wrinkling.

Chuck stares at him for a couple of seconds, despite his natural timidness, he refuses to back down.

"Sorry, I don't know that name." Beside him, the woman gets closer, her eyes trained on the cocky British man. He nods his head, not happy with his answer. 

Chuck squares his jaw, trying not to let the man's cold stare bring him down. Backing up, he tries to stand on his toes, covering the photo of Dean and Castiel. The man looks away from him, exactly where Chuck didn't want him to look, and then looks at the woman. 

He tips his chin forward, the woman looking in the direction behind Chuck. Shoving him aside, she reaches for a photo. 

"Hey, you're not supposed to be behind the bar." The woman looks at the photo before handing it to the man, Chuck looks away, knowing nothing he says will keep them from getting to Dean or Castiel. 

"I've seen this man before." 

"Well, this must the Castiel I've heard so much about."

The woman turns to grab Chuck's neck, pushing him against the liquor cabinet and pushing him off the ground.

"Uh, lady, you might wanna look around you," he says raspily.   
The whole bar aimed at them every pistol they had on them. 

"This really isn't the place to do something like that." he warns.  
The man shakes his head, looking back down at the photo.

"Easy, Ruby. Put the little man down."

Chuck gasps as the woman unclench her hand from around his neck and windpipe.

"We have everything we need now." the man says walking out of the bar, followed by the dark-haired woman. Chuck breathes a sigh of relief as they walk out. "Thanks for having my back, guys."

Moving down the bar until he reaches the phone, he quickly dials Dean's phone number, when Dean picks up with a gruff, 

"What?" Chuck tells him he has a problem.

______

After Chuck explained to Dean later what had happened, Dean proceeded to punch the wall, screaming about how he should have taken Balthazar out when he had the chance. On the way to the library that Cas volunteers at, Dean repeats to himself,   
"Oh, I can't believe I am doing this.”

Is there a word for angry and afraid?" Dean asks to no one in particular. 

“Have you decided what you are going to say to him?" Chuck asks.

"Fuck me!" Dean growls, when he realizes he doesn’t know what to say. 

"Well, maybe you shouldn't start with that," Chuck suggests.

Pushing through the library doors, Dean and Chuck scope out the place. It's almost closing time, and a few people are scattered all over the place. 

"We gotta find him fast, it's almost closing time," Dean says, quiet enough so no one beyond Chuck can hear him.

As they walk further into the library a few people stop to stare at Dean in his ratty jeans, scuffed work boots, jacket and hoodie covering up his scarred face. Luckily, none of them linger too long on his face to actually see what he looks like. 

Dean sees a woman he recognizes from before at the front desk. Her red hair and kind face checking books in. Dean moves on, ignoring her to weave through the shelves of books. After ten isles, Dean almost gives up looking for Cas on the first floor, his body stops moving of its own accord. Even his lungs and heart have stopped working, waiting to see what Dean will do next.

Cas' hair has gotten longer, his blue streaks faded to an ugly yellow-green color. His stubble is unkempt and he looks tired. The green nail polish on his fingernails chipped, his lips dry. The light green dress shirt he is wearing has smoothed out wrinkles, the top buttons on his shirt are undone and his dress pants are baggy like he lost weight.

Every muscle in his body twitches to move towards him. His throat convulses, longing to move to the sound of Castiel's name. But he doesn't, he just stands there and stares, like the coward he is.

Castiel shelves the books, author by author, number by number. Over and over, and over again. An unending drone of sorting through books, at one time in his life, Castiel loved the feel of book covers in his hands, surrounded by the quiet comfort these isles had to offer. Now everything pressed in on him. He made too many mistakes and snapped too often at the guests who came looking for books.

It's a good thing he isn't employed here, or he would have been fired months ago. A tingling, hair-raising sensation spreads across Castiel's neck and down his arms. Setting down the book he had been staring at for two minutes, clutches the back of his neck. Turning to look down the aisle, certain someone had been watching him. There's no one there. Shrugging halfheartedly, he resumes putting books back on the shelves. 

Two aisles down, Dean stands against the shelf breathing in through his nose, trying to calm himself down. "Holy shit." he breathed. That had been close. Castiel was just a glance away from seeing some creep watching him like the night stalker. Dean had reacted quickly, walking lightly so Castiel wouldn't hear him move away

"Shit. Fuck. Fuck!" Dean ranted, "This isn't about you, this is about Castiel. Protecting Castiel from the fuckstick. Get your white ass back there, and warn him." Dean coached himself, moving back two aisles where Cas was...no longer there.

"Shit!" Dean whispered loudly. Turning in circles, running down the other aisles, Cas wasn't in any of them!

Anna! She might know where he is! Walking back towards the front desk, Dean saw Chuck talking to Anna, they seemed to be getting along pretty well, if the way Anna was smiling and leaning towards Chuck.

Dean stood awkwardly, not knowing how to approach Chuck without getting attention from Anna.

Sensing someone staring at them, Chuck turned to see Dean watching them openly. 

"Um, excuse me, I'm sorry," Chuck said, saddened to see Anna's face fall at his retreat.

"Did you find him?" Chuck asked as he walked up to Dean.

"I did," Chuck stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

"And?!" he said harshly, arms flinging out beside him.

"And I chickened out, he knew I was there when he turned to look at me I ran. But when I talked myself into going back to him he was gone.

"Excuse me." called a feminine voice.  
Both men turned to look at the redhead standing next to them. Her gaze lingered on Dean and then moved back to Chuck, “What are you guys doing and how do you know Cas?" she asked suspiciously.

Dean stepped forward, he had met Anna several times over the years of being with Cas. He had talked to her several times while he waited for Castiel to get ready to head home at the end of the day. Surely, he thought. She will recognize me, even if my face is fucked up.

"Anna, it's me. Dean"

Anna stared at his shadowed face for several seconds. Nothing on her face giving away what she was thinking. Her hand shot forward, roughly pulling back the hoodie covering Dean's face. Her gasp of surprise left her harsh, but softly. 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the disgust on her face.

Softly, he felt a gentle touch against his scarred face. Cracking his eyes open, he looked down into the bottle green eyes. She didn’t disgusted, only curious and slightly disbelieving. 

Her hand pulled away from his face, only to be thrown back, meeting his face sharply. The crack of her hand against his face ringing in the building around them.  
"You son of a bitch!" she seethed, all the fury of a dangerous storm sparking in her eyes.

"Where the hell have you been, Dean? I know you have terminal cancer, but for you to just cut out and run without telling Castiel where you going. For a fucking three years, we don't hear from you, and now here you are like nothing has changed." She raised her hand again, this time in a fist.

"Whoa, whoa, Anna, please. You need to know. I went somewhere to get better, but they screwed me over, and now I am trying to fix things, but I need to let Cas know or shit could hit the fan and fast."

Her hand paused midair, she considered his words, lowering her hand. She stood there, waiting for him to continue.

"What I did, it cured me of my cancer, but it also caused a shit ton of problems from the people who cured me, they want my ass, and they're willing to go through Cas to get to me. Please, Anna. You have to tell me where he is."

She didn't look pleased about it, but she looked even more worried that Castiel could be in danger.

"He just left. Said he needed to talk to someone." her slim brows pulling together in worry. 

"Wait, you don't think-" Dean took off before she could finish her sentence. He didn't know where he could find Castiel, but starting at their apartments was a good place.

Outside the library doors, Dean paused. Dread filled him as he saw a white pouch on the ground. No! He screamed in his head, walking towards the pouch, he picked it up, the change in his Betty White change pouch jingled as he picked up. 

"Son of a bitch!"

¬¬¬¬¬¬______

Dean stormed into his bedroom at Missouri’s. Chuck behind him, trying to calm him down. "Motherfucker!" Dean yelled. 

"Okay, Dean, please. Take a breather..."

"Fuckstick, shit. Fuck!" Dean turned around, throwing a punch at his Century Bob, knocking him down with one punch. When that wasn't enough he jumped on top of it and started kicking it repeatedly, screaming, "Fuck!" over and over.

Chuck moved slightly out of the doorway, moving around the door a bit after Dean had stopped scream and there was minimal banging going on.

"Oh, I am going to rip his motherfucking- what is it that?" Dean demanded when a chiming went off, pointing in the direction of his messy desk.

"Find that, right now or I'm going to get angry!" Dean yelled.  
Chuck moved stuff around, looking for the noise. After moving around some bullets, a rubber ducky, and a towel, he picks up a cell phone. 

A sexy photo of Castiel popped up on the screen.

"Oh, it's Castiel." Dean shut up for a second almost taking Chuck down trying to get to the cell phone.

"No, wait. It's Balthazar."

The text read, 

"You want him?  
Come and get him.  
The Warehouse near  
Camp Chitaqua. 12 pm  
Love, Balthazar."

"Alright. I need guns." Dean said, his voice strained and edgy.

"OK, which guns?" Chuck asked  
"Give me. All the guns!" Dean yelled stomping his foot face red with anger and from yelling.

"OK, OK," Chuck said, running away.

Chuck and Missouri went through the house collecting every gun Dean had hidden anywhere. Dean got into his suit, piling every ounce of ammunition and rifle he had. Hell, he even threw in his old magazine with Patrick Swayze on the cover.

Missouri walked in the doorway, gun aimed and pointed at both Dean and Chuck. 

“Whoa, take that from her!” Dean yelled  
Jumping forward, Chuck gently took the gun from Missouri's hands.

"I was gonna spend the night resting my feet and listening to the radio, but this is holding my interest."

Dean looked at her sharply 

"I told you, as long as you can't see what is happening, you cannot be a part of it. Get that through your head, or get out of fucktown." Dean said, remembering their argument when Missouri wanted to know what kind of trouble Dean got up to that he had so much blood in his clothes.

"That's every piece in the house," she said instead.

"Oh, no. I know you're holding. Come on. Give it up." Dean said pointing at her ankle.

Dean zipped up the rest of his gear in his Dora the Explorer and Hello Kitty traveling bags. Hefting them over his shoulders, he turned to Chuck.

Holding his hand out, Chuck bid Dean goodbye, 

"Dean, I wish I could go with you, but - I don't wanna."

With a satisfied nod, Dean walked past Chuck and towards the door, stopping only when he got to Missouri.

"Missouri, if I never see you again, I wanted you to know. I love you." 

Missouri reached up to touch his face, at the last second, Dean jerked away. Sensing that he wouldn’t let her touch his face, she lowered her and patted his chest.

______

Balthazar and Ruby walked a tied and gagged Castiel across the pier. Castiel, staring at the back of the blonde’s head, his voice muffled when he said something. 

Turning, Balthazar pushed Castiel down onto some boxes and told Ruby to wait there. Cuffing Castiel hands to a nearby ladder, Castiel turned back to Balthazar, his voice muffled as he continued to talk.

Balthazar looked from Castiel back at Ruby and at Castiel. A look of regret crossed his face before he told Ruby to remove his duct tape. 

"Thanks, Assbutt. And I mean you." Castiel told Balthazar pointedly.

"Well, you're a talker too. You and Dean." 

Castiel cut in. "I have been trying to tell you assholes, you have the wrong guy. My boyfriend is dead."

"You see, I thought that, too. But he keeps on coming back. Like a cockroach." 

Castiel's exhausted face flits with confusion and mistrust.

"You see, I might not feel anything, but he does. Let's see how he feels with your head on the block." Balthazar walked away, ever present smirk never leaving his face.

______  
Deadpool walked up to the tall doors of the school, ready to knock, when his knuckles tapped the door, the moody teen opened up, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Michelle Pfeiffer, from Batman Returns!"

"What?" Claire stared at him, still chewing on her gum.

"You know, Catwoman? Decked out in leather, sassy attitude, crazy blonde hair."

"Fuck your old." she remarked instead.

"Hah! Fake laugh, hiding inner pain. Go get silver balls."

"You guys going for a bite?" she said with attitude in every syllable.

"No, you know that bad guy, that you let go? He's got, my man. And you're gonna help me get him back."

"Dean, is that you?" Benny called from the bathroom.

"Yeah", Dean hollered, and I got an offer that you can't refuse."  
Claire turned back to Deadpool, her eyebrows rising higher than fresh baked bread. Dean laughed at his own simile. Claire's eyebrows rose even higher, her eyes squinting in warning. Dean's laughter snorted out of his nose, getting increasingly uncomfortable the longer it went on. Finally, his giggles drifted off, and they stood there awkwardly. "OK, I'm gonna go wait for you guys now," he said walking away, their eyes never breaking apart until Claire shook her head and closed the door.

______

In the taxi, Deadpool rambled on with his critic about some movie he thought should be compared to porn.

Garth nodded along, not really listening to Deadpool's ramblings. Leaning into Deadpool, he asked, "Why is there a shiny guy in the back?" he asked, his face uncomfortable.

"Well," Deadpool began, "My chrome penis friend back there has agreed to do this assignment as long as I consider joining his boy band."

"It's not a boy band, Dean. Shut up." Benny cut in.

"Sure it's not."

"So, any luck getting Bess back?" Dean asked, changing the subject.

Garth winced, "I tried to be the better man, but Wayne is more cunning and good looking than I'll ever be." Garth looked to Deadpool when he looked over at him.

"Well, I think you're pretty darn cute!" Dean said sincerely.  
Garth turned onto a road, hitting a pothole making the car bounce, a muffled shout cut through the car. In the driver’s seat, Garth winced. Discretely looking over at Dean to see if he noticed.

"Garth...what was that?" Deadpool asked slowly looking over at him.

"Uh, what? I don’t - I” Garth looked at Deadpool, his mask unmoving 

“that was...uh...Wayne. Hah. In. In the trunk?" Garth stuttered, raising his voice like a question.

"Wayne?" Benny asked

"My cousin, Wayne. He's tied up in the trunk. I'm doing as you said," Garth looked to Dean. 

"I'm going to gut him like a fish, and I'm going to dump his lifeless body on the side of the road."

Deadpool looked around, his eyebrows raised behind his mask, frantically trying to find a way out of it.

Turning to Benny, he said, "I did not tell him to do that. Absolutely not!" Dean pointed his finger at the steely, literally, gaze of Benny.

"We got lost in translation, Garth this is not the way to win Bess's heart back- I'm so proud of you - drop Wayne off, safe and gentle like - kill him - and then win Bess back, the old-fashioned way, poise, charm - kidnap her -"

Each whisper had Garth looking at Deadpool sharply, clearly confused about what was being said at that moment.

______

"Ah, we're here!" Garth declared cheerily, happy that the awkward ride was finally over.

"And a crisp high five," Garth said, turning to Deadpool.

"For you, ten!" Deadpool said, giving Garth a high ten, Garth's giddy smile stretching across his face.

"and you," Dean said turning to Colossus and Negasonic, "let's get out there and make a difference!"

"You know what to do," Dean whispered to Garth motioning a slit across his throat and pointing back the trunk before giving a thumbs up, and stepping out of the car.

"It's time to slice some pie!" Dean said, rubbing his hands together.

______

For Dean, it wasn't often that a strange guy ruins his face, skull stomps his sanity, or steals his future baby-daddy, and personally sees to four of his five shittiest moments. Let's just say, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

As they walk through the field towards the warehouse, Deadpool sings 'Another One Bites the Dust', strutting with every step. 

"What are you doing?" Claire asks in annoyance, 

"Uh, this is clearly the point in a movie where the director cues badass song as the actors in sexy costumes walks into battle, duh!" Dean says like that was the most obvious thing.

Claire rolls her eyes, ignoring Dean as he continues to sing about bullets shooting the sound of the beat.

They're getting closer to the warehouse before Claire realizes that Deadpool doesn't have his duffle bags. The three of them stand there as Deadpool calls Garth. 

Distracted, Deadpool pokes his finger into Claire's ear, slapping his hand away, she gives him a dirty look, the phone keeps ringing and goes straight to voice mail.

"Goddamnit! OK, we're gonna do this the old fashioned way. Two swords and maximum effort."

They start walking again, Dean resumes singing 'Another Bites the Dust" They stop in their tracks as men gather around to aim guns at them.

"Dean Winchester!" calls a voice from a window of the warehouse.

"What's my name?" Balthazar asked, cheekily

"Oh, I'm gonna fucking spell it out for ya!" Dean says to himself.  
Ruby walks up to the broken window with Balthazar, looking down at the three of them.

"Yeah, alright. Go get them" he told Ruby.

"Oh! Watch, she's gonna do a superhero landing!" Dean exclaimed, slapping Claire on the arm.

Ruby, leaps from the window of the warehouse, falling for six seconds until she lands on her knees, in the grass in front of the abandoned building.

"Whoo! Superhero landing!" Deadpool applauded   
"You know, that's really bad for your knees."

Standing up, Ruby struts over to the trio, resembling a pissed off black panther

"You're a lovely lady," Dean complimented dryly, "but I'm saving myself for Balthazar. That's why I brought him." Dean gestured to Benny as he stepped forward to intercept Ruby.

"I prefer to not to hit on Dame's, how's 'bout we play fair?" Benny asked.

Completely ignoring him, Ruby threw her fist into Benny's chest, his steel ringing from the collision of her fist, Deadpool ducking as he sailed across the lot.

Deadpool stood up from his crouch, "I mean, that's why I brought her..." he said, turning to look at Negasonic.

She stood there, her pointer finger in the air as she typed out a message with one hand. 

"Oh, no finish your tweet. Just give us a second, please." Dean said, turning to look at Ruby.

Claire tossed her phone, Dean catching it midair. "go get her, tiger" he said

Negasonic charged toward Ruby, a gold energy force lighting up around her and her blue eyes glowing gold. Sound waves filled the air as she sped up, running straight into Ruby, the impact tossing her some ten feet right into a cargo trailer.

Ruby, bounced back from the trailer, unscathed. Claire stood there, her blonde hair blowing in the wind, her street clothes burned off to reveal a black and yellow suit underneath. Meeting Ruby's standoff head on, her face prideful and full of attitude

"Alright, then," Ruby mumbled as bullets flew past her, shooting at Deadpool and Negasonic. Running towards Negasonic, Deadpool grabbed Claire by the waist, pushing them out of the line of fire with his body to hide behind stacked Bobcat tires amongst the construction equipment.

Benny stomped back towards the gunfire, hefting up a giant tire, and tossing at two men shooting on top of the Hummer, knocking them down.

Ruby rushed towards Colossus, her combat boots pounding on the grass and dirt road.

"Finish fucking her the fuck up!" Dean hollered at Benny over the sound of gunfire.

"Language, please."

"Suck a cock!" Dean returned maturely.

Ruby slammed into Colossus, running him through crates, metal doors, and piping, Benny's fists pounding into her back, Ruby's face strained as she propelled the giant. Taking the upper hand, Benny turned her around and forcing her into a chokehold. Ruby threw her legs up in the air, throwing her and Benny's weight down, lurching him over her shoulder, his body crashing to the ground with a boom. With Benny on the ground, she drove her fist down, aiming for his head, rolling away from the impending fist, before her fist connected to his head.

______

Claire peeked over the edge of debris as the uniformed men continued to rain fire on them.

"Alright, this is bullshit!" Dean exclaimed to himself. "Claire, I think you know what to do?" Deadpool asked the teenager, giving each other a final nod.

Breathing in deeply, Deadpool prepared himself mentally, letting out a slow calm breath.

"It's time to nut up or shut up."

Jumping over the gigantic tire, he somersaulted on the ground, pulling out a knife from his ankle holster, the knife hurled through the air, embedding itself into a man's eye socket.  
Deadpool drew his swords from their scabbards as men came at him three down, slicing a guy's head off, and kicking into another guy, knocking him down.

In the middle of six men, and Dean is slicing them down, limb by limb, plunging his swords into bodies before everyone is down.

______

Claire hides behind a van, watching the uniforms as they approach. Clenching her fists, Negasonic wills energy to flow through her, slamming into the van and landing on the men, killing them instantly.

Leaping through the air, swords spread out like wings, Dean slices through another man's chest, knocking him over. Another man charges Dean, his gun aimed.

"Wait a minute..." the man stares at the mask behind his own half covered face. 

"Don't I know you?" Dean asks. 

"Was I supposed to?" the man asks confused. 

"Well, there was that one time at band camp..." Slamming his head into the other man, knocking him out. 

"So, Ted. How's the kids? Does Brenda still make that delicious casserole? So good, but so bad for the waistline." Dean says to the unconscious man as he drags him away.

Dean can hear Cas' yelling even from six floors down. "Fuck. Gotta get moving" Dean coaches himself as he enters the building.

 

______  
"You can shit fire and light a match."

Balthazar blocked out the abuse his captive spewed out, checking his emails on his iPhone, 

"and you can go fuck yourself on the mule you rode in on!"   
The man continued. his voice steel and thunder even though he was tied up against the moldy wall. 

"Do you ever shut up?" Balthazar snapped at the man. 

Dark blue eyes stared into ice blue eyes, Castiel's eyes hard, his lips tight, a slight twitch making his lip jump. Leaning forward as much as he could with his hands tied above him, 

"Bite me," Castiel whispered defiantly, his eyes still focused on Balthazar's.

Pushing away from the wall, Balthazar calmly walks over to the dark-haired man, his hand ready to strike his face.

 

"Never gonna give you up  
Never gonna let you down  
Never gonna run around and desert you  
Never gonna make you cry  
Never gonna say goodbye  
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you"

Balthazar turns away from Castiel to look toward the antique elevator slowly making its way up. The horrible singing continues to echo up through the elevator shaft and into the warehouse.

Castiel tilts his head to see around the blonde man, slowly the door lifts and another is pushed up to reveal a man in a red suit, the eyes on the mask are white, the material of the mask completely covering his mouth and nose.

"Honey, I'm home!" the man sing songs. Both men stare back at him, "sweetheart, I told you, you should have worn the brown pants." Deadpool addresses Balthazar wearing black cargo pants.

The mask turns away from Balthazar, looking directly at Castiel. 

"Hey, Stallion." Dean drawls with a staged southern accent. Castiel stills his shifting wrists, his breath caught in his throat. 

"Dean?" he asks incredulously.

"Don't worry Angel. I took really good care of your boy. You could say he's as good as new."  
"You better hope they severed every last one of your nerves, fuckstick. Because imma goes looking for it." Dean growled.

Balthazar roared as Dean drew his swords, Balthazar charging at him with axes. The blades collided against each other each skillful hit blocked and swung again. With Balthazar kicked away from him, Dean flings a sword toward Cas, impaling the concrete wall two inches from his bound wrists.

______

Back outside, Ruby is choking Benny with a steel rope, his head bending back at an unnatural angle.

______

Castiel moves his wrists closer to the blade, sawing away at the rope till it gives way, and he falls on his knees on the grungy floor.

"Fine!" huffs Ajax in a wrecked voice, "Fists it is."

"Ooh, sounds like your last Saturday night," Deadpool remarks raunchily. Dean blocks Balthazar's punch, backhanding him across the face, kicking his leg out and twisting around to kick him in the face. Hugging him around the waist, Ajax throws Dean onto the floor, rolling backward, Ajax's foot kicking at his face, he grabs his leg and kicks him in the crotch. 

Going down, Deadpool and Ajax roll around throwing punches and kicking each other, Balthazar rolls out from under him, a knife pulled out of its sheath. They grapple some more, Balthazar takes a plunge at Deadpool with the knife, Dean twists him around, holding him in a chokehold, Balthazar's chokes and gags felt against his forearm.

Gripping the back of Deadpool's head, he throws him forward, his body skidding across the floor. Running towards Dean, he kicks his head into the wall and plunges the knife into the side of Dean's head. 

With a groan, Dean slides slowly against the wall and down onto the floor. Balthazar's booted foot wails on Dean's head, his grunts echoing through the room. 

______

Disoriented from where he had hit his head on the ground, Castiel sits up, unties the rope from around his ankles. looking up at the violence near the windows, Castiel can see Dean laying on the floor, a knife sticking out of his head. 

Hurriedly he stands up, gripping the handle of the knife. Wiggling it around, the sword comes loose. Stumbling backward and gaining balance, Castiel runs towards Dean. With a battle cry, Castiel pulls the sword back and impales the man in the stomach. They both fall down with the momentum, Castiel hitting his head again on the concrete.

Disoriented from the kicks to his head, Dean sees Castiel fall in a heap on the floor. Pawing at the knife, he tries to locate the penetration site, his head still swimming and he feels like throwing up.

After his vision clears, he looks to Castiel. Laying on his sides, his face in pain as he clutches his head. While Dean had watched him recover, Castiel finally looks back at Dean. His eyes hurt and angry.

Raising his hand, he wiggles his fingers in a wave and shapes his fingers into a heart shape. Everything is still swimming, as Castiel slowly forms a word with his mouth, his voice traveling from a long distance, "Fuckhole!" he hollers, although distortedly.

A boot steps between their vision of each other, Castiel is pulled off of the ground by the collar of his dress shirt. Balthazar tosses Castiel across the room, Castiel's grunt of pain echoes slowly make way to his ears. Standing up, Dean pulls the knife out of his head, everything slowly becoming clear and back to speed.

______

From a distance, Claire can see the dark haired woman choking Benny. Building up her energy, she squats down and releases the energy in an arching wave, she soars into the air, arching over the debris and scrap metal. Landing next to Benny, she thrusts out energy into the dark haired woman, throwing Ruby off of Benny and back into the piles of metal.

The burst of energy blows up, vehicles, scrap metal, and even a kitchen sink is swept up in the explosion. Half of the warehouse is impacted by the explosion, floor caving and walls falling into the building.

______

Dean throws one more punch at Balthazar. The force of the explosion knocking them down. The floor shifts and collapse beneath them, struggling to get on his feet, he runs towards Castiel's yell of distress. 

"Dean! Help!" Castiel screams as he slides with the caving floor. A firm, almost painful grip tightens around Castiel's wrist. Dean is there above him, his voice straining as he pulls Castiel out of the hole. When Castiel is finally out of the whole, Dean moves them away from the caving floor and towards the hole in the wall.

"Alright, Stallion. I have an idea, but you're not going to like it." Dean says as he pulls over a tire for a construction vehicle. 

"Cas, babe. I need you to fit yourself in this and hold on tightly, okay?" Dean asked. Castiel nodded reluctantly but fit his back against the inside of the tire. 

"It's not that long a fall and the tire will help you bounce and keep you protected,"

Dean paused, holding Castiel's bloody and beat up the face between his gloved hands. Castiel’s blue eyes looking into the whites of Dean’s masked eyes 

"I will find you again," Dean promised before he pushed Castiel back into the tire and rolled him and the tire out the hole in the side of the building. He could hear Castiel's screams as he plummeted down to earth.

Huffing a deep breath, Dean swung his arms back and jumped forward, out the side of the building.

______

Castiel pushed his way out of the tire. Rubble and dirt falling around him, moving his hand around the tire, trying to get a good grip, a hand grabbed onto his, pulling him out of the debris and pieces of the building.

Coughing up the dust that he had inhaled and blinked out the tears of dirt, Castiel looked at the person who pulled him out. Make that two people. No… a kid and a...thing.

"It's alright, man. Just take it slow." Benny soothed 

"Whoohoo!" called a voice, the three of them turned to look at up at Deadpool standing on the fallen building. 

"Oh man, did you see that? That was awesome!" Dean exclaimed before Ajax jumped from behind a broken wall, knocking him down. 

"Dean!" Castiel yelled as both men fell down the hill of broken concrete.

______

Both bodies stopped rolling once they hit the ground. Balthazar jerked up, not fast enough as Dean threw himself on top of him and threw punch after punch onto the man's bloody face.

When the man jabbed out a weak punch, Dean easily dodged it, fitting the wrist under his arm, and slamming his fist into Balthazar's elbow, bending the arm in a broken angle. Gripping the other wrist, he pulled till it cracked in half. Throwing one last punch into Balthazar's bloody face.

Deadpool sat up, groaning. Balthazar lay beneath him, laughing maniacally. 

"Me and you," Dean growled, "are headed to fix this butterface!" Balthazar lay there, his smile slowly fading as confusion slipped into his eyes. 

"What?" he asked and started laughing again. 

"You're a fucking idiot." he laughed 

"Do you really think there is a cure? For that?" he asked, lifting his head to look into Deadpool's white eyes.

Deadpool sat there, breathing deeply. 

"What?" he asked in a steely voice, his eyes squinting dangerously. 

"You heard me." Balthazar huffed out tiredly.

"No! No!" Dean yelled, raising a fist to punch the man beneath him, but letting go, defeated. Balthazar's laugh still floating around him. 

"So. You mean to say, that after all this. You can't fix me?" Dean huffed out. 

"It sounds even stupider when you say it." Balthazar retorted 

"Like the kind of stupid a man would say when the one thing he can't do, is what I'm keeping him alive for?"

Dean pulls out his Colt, pulling back the hammer, and aiming it at the man's face.

"Any last requests?" Dean asks. Balthazar lifts his head, pressing his forehead against the barrel of the gun. 

"What's my name?" he whispers. 

"Who fucking cares?" Dean replies. moving forward, ready to take a shot.

"Dean! Wait!" Benny Calls. 

"What?!" Dean screams, slightly turning his head to look at Colossus. 

"Think about what you're doing, brother." Begins Benny. Dean blocks him out, not really hearing what he's saying but nodding along. An itch starts to spread across his skin. He feels like a kid, instructed to not knock off a vase from a table.

"Being a hero is not a full-time job. It's little moments that make us heroes; saving a friend sparing an enemy." Benny gestures to Balthazar, the man in question looks at Dean, amusement spread across his face. 

"And in these moments, everything else falls away, the way the world sees us, the way-" BANG

Benny looks down to see that Dean had shot Ajax in the head. The bile in his stomach rises, spewing out of his mouth. 

"What the fuck, Dean?" Benny exclaims, turning back to throw up. 

"You were droning on!" Dean says like that was the most reasonable explanation. 

"At least now he won't be able to create more fuck ups like me."

"Just, promise me, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll keep a lookout for moments. Shit." Dean swore as he looked around

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm just a boy about to stand in front of another boy and tell him - what the fuck am I gonna tell him?" Dean freaks out.

"Well," Benny laughs, "You better figure it out." A smirk spreading across his chrome face as he walks away

______

Dean hears Castiel come up behind him, turning to face Castiel. 

"Babes, please, let me explain-" Castiel throws a punch into Dean's face, a grunt heaving from his chest. 

"OK, I deserved that," Castiel throws another punch into his stomach, "that too." 

Castiel brings back his leg, his eyes focused between Dean’s legs.

"Nah, nah, nah. Probably not the nethers." Dean says as he covers his crotch. 

"You better start talking, right fucking now." Castiel roars.

Dean stares at Castiel for a few seconds, his face scrunched up in anger, pain, and sadness. 

"I'm sorry," he begins. "I'm sorry, for everything! For leaving. I'm sorry for not coming to you sooner. It's been a rough couple of years."

"Rough?!" Castiel exclaims, his eyes squinting, his mouth pinched as he as charges into Dean’s space. 

"I should have come and found you sooner. But, the man you knew under this mask isn't the one that you remember." Dean continues quickly

Castiel's tears continue to flow, but his eyes become more focused as he looked at Deadpool's face. Reaching forward, his hands slipped around to the back. Dean jerked away from him, Castiel's jaw flexed with emotion. He continued to stare at Dean, waiting for the right moment to continue.

His fingers pulled at the zipper connecting the neck of the mask to the suit, slipping it off. Castiel's face scrunched up, his eyes squinting in confusion. Patrick Swayze’s smiling face on a magazine cover stared back at him, the eyes cut out. 

"Yeah, that was in case the other mask fell off." Dean defended weakly.

Castiel shook his head at Dean fondly, reaching back up, he pulled at the staple on his chin. 

"Ow, ow. Ok, yeah just like a Band-Aid. Shit!" Dean exclaimed as the staple came out. Castiel reached up to take out the last staple in his forehead.

"Wait. Wait. Are you sure?" Dean asked for good measure.

"I'm sure," Castiel reassured, a warm, wobbly smile spreading across his face. He reached up once more to pull the staple from his forehead. 

______

The face, the new Dean that greeted him, was a shock. 

He's not gonna lie. Dean's skin looks melted and burned. The pigment different shades of red and pink. All of his hair, his eyebrows and eyelashes are gone, his head bald.

Castiel can barely recognize Dean at first, but longer he looks, Castiel can see the vulnerability in Dean's jade green eyes. Despite 90% of Dean's personality being full of dick jokes and acting a fool, there are moments where Dean is a kid again. 

The one who lost his mom, his brother, and his dad. The one who grew up too fast and was so starved of love and affection, even a simple pat on the shoulder was enough to bring this man's spirits up.

"Wow," Castiel said softly, awe in his voice. 

"Yeah," Dean said self-deprecatingly. Realizing that Dean took his awe the wrong way, Castiel stepped forward.

"Hey," Cas said softly, soothingly. Lifting up his hand, tilting Dean's face up by his chin, he lets his hand stay there to rub his thumb against Dean's lip.

"After a brief adjustment period and a bunch of drinks...It's a face...I'd be happy to sit on." Cas whispers against Dean’s lips. Dean looks up into Cas' face, a smile slowly clearing away the fear and rejection.

"You know, I'm not the same under this suit either...Super penis!" Dean whispers dramatically. A grin spread's out across Castiel's face, his tears long gone.

"Come on, Dean," Benny says. "There's a kid present."  
Dean turns to look at Benny and Claire's look of disgust. 

"What are you two still doing here? Get out of here! Make like a tree and leaf! And you!" Exclaims Dean, a blush making his face even redder. 

Dean points to Benny, "Go be a big brother to someone. And you!"   
Dean points to Claire. 

"Nothing compares to you." he states with a wink. 

"It's alright," Claire says, nodding her head. "You're cool." 

Dean gasps at the compliment, Castiel chuckling beside him.

"What in the fudge? That was not mean! I'm proud of you!"   
Dean applauds Claire as she sulks away. 

"Just wait, we're gonna make an X-Men of you yet," Benny says as he follows Claire away. 

"Yeah, we'll see about that." Dean retorts. 

______

Dean turns to look back at Castiel, his eyes still watery, but his smile is happy and the wrinkles around his eyes that have aged since he last seen him have deepened.

He never looked more gorgeous. 

“You know; she reminds me of you,” Castiel said, looking towards Claire.

“Nah, she’s a good kid.” Dean blushed, and waved his hand dismissively.

“Enough about Claire, I’ve been waiting for this moment for three years," Dean says as he steps up to Cas. Wrapping his arms around Castiel's shoulders, he pulls him close. They stare at each other. Breathing each other in.

"C'mere." Castiel pulled Dean closer, kissing him. The sound of a crescendo floated around them slowly,

"I could stay awake just to hear you breathin'   
Watch you smile while you are dreamin'"

Castiel pulled away from Dean's lips with a wet sound. Looking for the noise, Dean's hand raised up, holding his phone. 

"Aerosmith. As promised." Dean said dopily.

A burst of laughter exploded from Castiel's chest. Pulling Dean's head back to his, continuing where they left off.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! This took me a little over two months to do, and a lot of jumping around the movie and back and forth between Deadpool and Supernatural to get the likeness accurate. I had a brief moment of writer's block when it came to Balthazar and Ruby. I still don't feel satisfied with the outcome of their characters in my story. I hope I didn't mess them up too much. If anyone has any complaints or criticism for my story, I would love your input. Like I said, this is my first and hopefully not last fan fiction I will be writing.


End file.
